What doesn't kill you
by lucablue
Summary: ...sometimes makes you wish it had. Dean wishes his memory wasn't so good sometimes.
1. Chapter 1

**What doesn't kill you…**

…**sometimes makes you wish it had. **

Disclaimer: I still own nothing "Supernatural".

_a/n: (Oct 08) This is way darker than anything I've done before – must be spending too much time under my rock._

_There's hurt, angst, blood and violence but I don't think its M…let me know if you think otherwise and I'll change the rating._

_It's set sometime in Season 2._

_I would like at this point to remind you that I am Australian and hereby invoke my poetic licence to accidently screw up directions, distances and descriptions of the places I mention. (Just don't laugh too loudly, you may strain something)._

_It's for the Dean girls out there (you know who you are – and I know as well!!) but I would never leave Sammy out…it just wouldn't be right. I'm all for EAO (Equal Angst Opportunity)._

_lb._

**Chapter 1**

_**Now**_

It started just outside Spokane. Two bodies, mutilated and fed upon then left to rot in the damp compost of the forest. They were probably the first victims who had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Deadly on this occasion.

The unfortunate couple had been married and were on holidays, enjoying a hike in the clean, crisp winter air. They had ended up running for their lives, and died with their faces twisted in fear. They were found with their mouths still open in silent screams and their bodies cut and bitten.

They walk through the forest with little conversation, following the trail back as it wound between the larger trees. Their boots crunch the mulch of the fallen leaves which lay thick and damp smelling underfoot. Dean glances at his brother who is lost in thought and wonders if he's worried about what this looks like cause he should be.

Dean sure as hell is.

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They flash their smiles and show their badges at the local Sheriff. He says it looks like one of the big cats had escaped from nearby Colbert and run amok. It's happened before, only killed one tourist last time though.

Sam and Dean know better but don't say anything.

Ellen Harvelle had called with a job and a starting point and what the hell they were nearby so they took it on. It wasn't often they were handed the first victims, a licence plate and the name of the demon. Dean knew it was too good to be true when he found out what they were tracking.

Dean thinks Ellen is joking and tells her so, doesn't trust her information. Sam asks how she can be so sure and she tells them a friend of hers has been waiting for them to kill again since last autumn. He'd go after them himself Ellen adds but he says he's getting too old.

The boys look at each other and wonder if he's just too scared.

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The kills in Spokane are fresh, maybe only two or three hours old but it takes a call from Ash to point them in the right direction. He's traced a navy blue Ford Bronco on enough road camera's from Spokane to tell them to get their asses over to Albany.

Sam looks at Dean from the passenger seat of the Impala. Sam's body is twisted, long legs stretched forward and body curled sideways as he leans his back against the door. Dean looks back at him and thinks his brother never looks comfortable, even when he is.

Sam traces a calloused finger almost reverently across the page as he reads aloud from the journal. For once he almost wishes their Dad hadn't put as much detail into his writing but figures they'd probably just end up dead quicker.

"Sam?" Dean's voice prods him to continue when he hadn't realised that he'd stopped. "That bad?"

Sam's raised eyebrows say yes but instead he asks Dean what he remembers from the hunt with Dad.

_**Before**_

"I want you to stay inside Dean, no matter what happens. Clear?"

"Yessir."

"Caleb will set himself up inside at the bar and he'll follow her out. Mackie and I will be in the alley waiting. We have to wait 'till she starts feeding to make sure but we'll stop her in time."

"Dad, I can help."

"You are son, I need you to watch Caleb's back. Besides you're only sixteen and its risky having you here at all being underage but like I said I need you to watch Caleb's back and call me if anything goes wrong."

Dean sits in a dark booth fidgeting with a coaster and sipping a beer to keep up appearances. He doesn't take his eyes off Caleb until about an hour later when he follows a couple out the back door and Dean knows his Dad and the other hunter will have his back now. Knows he has to stay here if he wants to earn their trust. Doesn't mean he has to like it.

He stretches his neck muscles and sits back, surprised when a shadow falls across him and a man sits down opposite. He knows he needs to speak and tell this guy to piss off especially when the guy reaches out and wraps a cool hand around his wrist. His skin has a strange blue tinge but it must be the bad lighting.

He knows this is wrong, something's very wrong and he briefly thinks maybe this guy is what they're hunting and he really needs to tell Dad right now. Trying to breath is taking a lot of effort though and he doesn't think he'd be able to move enough to get his phone.

He's not quite sure he could speak right now anyway.

_Look at me_.

All he wants to do is look at the green eyes in front of him. Dean hasn't seen that shade of smooth aqua green before, a tropical ocean that draws you into its depths. His eyes travel to the lips curled in a shy smile and he wonders what they would feel like crushed against his mouth. A wave of heat flows through him and he wants to find out.

_Want you._

He knows he should be fighting this cause there's a faint alarm bell ringing relentlessly in the back of his skull somewhere and he grimaces slightly as he tries to access this seemingly important information. His thoughts are shattered into a million pieces as he feels a finger trace down his face and across his lips making his body react thoughtlessly as his mouth opens. Willingly.

_Come with me._

He stands up only to be pushed roughly back down by strong hands on his shoulders. There are suddenly lots of people yelling and then he sees his Dad and Mackie run out chasing the guy that sat with him. He hears a girl scream outside and people start going out the back door. It's all too much to take in right now and he just sits while it happens around him.

Caleb is suddenly in his face, hand on his arm telling him they have to get out before the cops come and he has to hurry. Dean follows him outside and catches a glimpse of bare skin and blood on the pavement and they start running once they get around the corner and head for the car a few blocks away. He notices a lot of blood on Caleb's shirt but apart from a scratch down his face he doesn't seem badly hurt.

They've still got a block to go when Dean stops and vomits in the gutter, his skin crawling with shame and repulsion as the creature's thoughts echo in his head. As the desire that wasn't his still resounds through his body like an aftershock.

Mackie's lying in a pool of blood when they get there and Dean realises he's the only one not bleeding. His Dad is holding an arm to his chest and tells him to go with Caleb.

He clamps his jaw shut and breathes through his nose, willing them not to look at him cause he's sure that his face will betray him and his dirty little secret. He never tells them what happened, not even his Dad. Especially not his Dad.

And they don't ask.

_**Now**_

"Don't remember much at all Sammy, Dad wouldn't let me hunt. I was just the backup. I know there were a pair of them not just one like we'd thought – that's why the whole deal went pear shaped I guess. They each went after a…after someone. They were close range telepaths and vicious as hell when they were cornered. Dad got cut up pretty bad and Mackie ended up in hospital. Don't remember Dad going after them again but I guess someone else finished the job."

"You see em?"

"Looked pretty normal to me, 'cept for the eyes. They've all got green eyes like, like nothing I've seen before." He lifted his head and met his brother's eyes. "Don't let'em touch you."

Cool skin. Red lips.

Sam thinks there's more, there always is but there's no point pushing. He nods and reads aloud the handwriting scrawled across the page. He's surprised that Ellen didn't mention they've been known to keep some humans alive for their feeding season, probably for bait. Maybe she didn't know.

Dean snorts at this. She knows he says, just like she knows Skrabens are carnivores that like cutting things up with claws and knives.

Dean's face remains neutral as Sam describes the way they lure and control humans with a mixture of pheromones and touch telepathy. The way they look human except when feeding and have some traits similar to succubi as well as vampiric tendencies.

Green eyes. Wanting.

"…feed off blood and sometimes flesh and get high from adrenaline and lust. Gross. Will also draw energy during sex. Again gross. Mate for life and hunt at night before winter hibernation."

Sam squinted at the journal and turned it sideways to read the added points written in the margin. "Only active a couple of months each year. Use humans as bait? Nest in remote areas. Consecrated iron to heart."

"They're smart killers Sam and they…they enjoy it."

Sam glances across at his brother's face but the shadows hide his eyes and whatever is behind them. He's pretty sure that Dean's a little worried about this hunt and now he thinks that maybe he is too.

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He has a clear memory of how it started last time. Two bodies became many by the time his Dad had tracked the Skrabens to California. All the victims he'd seen had been bloodied and torn open. Some of them, male and female had been raped as well. He knows two of the bodies he saw were no more than sixteen. The same age as him.

He wishes his memory wasn't so good sometimes.

Dean pushes his foot on the accelerator and just enjoys the feeling of speed for a minute. The rush of leaving things behind and pretending they were just road tripping, no agenda. Just him and his brother living in the sun, safe and normal.

Not always hunting in the darkness. Just outside everyone's peripheral vision.

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Dean made it to Albany in six hours. Sam made him stop for coffee once, said he needed to have a break if he wanted to drive the whole way. Sam was a little pissed when he held the coffee in one hand and drove anyway.

They sit separately trying to look like victims, vulnerable. Dean knows he'll be safe. He knows his body language screams don't mess with me but he doesn't know how to change that. Doesn't really know if he wants to.

Sam looks too young and Dean's too nervous to sit far from him. Just in case.

The all-nighters were open until four am in Albany and there were too many to pick the right one. They tried anyway.

And failed.

Sam turns the radio on as they slump into the Impala at four in the morning. He turns it off when he hears the headline of a gruesome double murder, female 22 and male 26 across town. Police are shocked by the viciousness of the attacks.

The boys are shocked by how defeated they feel this early on in the hunt.

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They get an early call and Dean snags his cell off the bedside table. He doesn't talk for long and shakes his brother's shoulder as soon as he ends the call.

"Sammy, c'mon we gotta go."

"What?' Sam's brain tries to clutch start but it's rough, not quite enough.

"Ash is running a program that's tracking the vehicle by road camera."

Sam opens his mouth and closes it again when he sees Dean's don't ask face. He cleans his teeth and grabs his bag. He never bothers to unpack anymore.

They head down the coast to Redding, Dean finds a local station that plays rock and Sam is glad the music's loud. He doesn't know why but this hunt seems different. Even Dean seems different. Edgy.

He tells Dean he's worried about him and he doesn't really know what he was expecting back but Dean just grins, shakes his head and rolls his eyes. Somehow that makes Sam feel better.

Standard operating procedure.

They roll into Redding just before two in the afternoon. It's raining and it doesn't look like it's gonna stop. They check into the first motel they find with wireless internet and cable, there're still a few hours to kill before they hunt.

Sam checks the net for possibilities and wonders aloud if they should split up, cover more ground.

Dean shoots that idea down in seconds. Sam doesn't appreciate the implication that he can't look after himself.

Dean doesn't give a damn.

"Dean we're never gonna find the right place, there's too many options here."

"Just find a nightclub Sam, plenty of dark, plenty of booze."

"I don't think that's gonna help, there's still too many."

It didn't.

Dean smashes his fist into the steering wheel when they hear the news at one in the morning on their way to another bar. They were only about a mile and a half away.

They cruise around town for another two hours looking for a navy blue Ford Bronco.

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The call came just after five this time and Sam was still staring at the ceiling. He answered Dean's phone and looked at his brother strewn across the bed opposite. He hadn't even taken his boots off.

"Ash what else do you know about these things?" Sam feels like he's missing something important.

"Dude apart from the fact that they're demons, what's to know? Ellen says your brother's one of the few that's survived hunting'em and not gotten mangled or dead…well y'know that's still alive as we speak. You're picking the wrong brain here man."

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It took half a day to drive to Salt Lake City and Dean had finally given up the wheel after he had nearly driven off the road.

Twice.

Dean rang Ash as they drove past the patrol cars and crime scene tape fluttering in the wind just inside the city limits about an hour after dusk. They drove on and reached Santa Fe in the early hours of the morning.

"Dean we gotta stop here. We'll end up wrapped around a tree." Sam's head was pounding and his vision was blurred.

Dean knew Sam was right and didn't argue when his brother pulled into a motel on the main street. Sam looked like crap and he felt pretty much the same.

He lets the water run over his face and body and wishes he could just stay there, in limbo. He knows Sam is waiting, impatient to get going. To hunt things, save people. Dean turns the shower off and gets dressed in minutes, his clean shirt soaking up the water droplets on his skin that he hasn't even bothered to dry.

Just another hunt.

Yeah and maybe if he keeps telling himself that, he might even start to believe it.

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They walk into the barely lit room, steady bass beat vibrating through their bones so they can feel the music surrounding them as much as hear the sound. They hesitate just inside the doorway, both visibly at ease yet both so strung out alert.

Sam heads for a dark corner of the bar with an easy roll of his hips and a shy smile for those he passes that try to catch his eye. Dean buys a beer and then leans back against the side wall, the coolness of the faux tiles seeping through his shirt onto his back. He scans the crowd of bodies pulsing with the seductive beat, never losing focus of Sam.

Sam notices a girl sidle up and lean next to him at the bar, an elbow brushing his arm as she orders a drink. She's attractive, with dark hair hanging loose against the tan skin of her shoulders. She's slim and tall and says her name is Corinne and any other time he might even enjoy the small talk but not now, not tonight.

He smiles politely and declines when she wants to go somewhere quieter to talk. Her eyes are brown.

Dean tenses a little when he sees the girl approach Sam but he knows his brother's body language and she's not who they're after. He barely has time to be relieved when his eyes are drawn to the dance floor.

She's beautiful. Her little black dress covers her shapely body like a second skin writhing and turning with the music. Her hair is below waist length and glints in the pulsing lights as it surrounds her like a veil, half covering her face. She presses her body close to her partner, a twenty something boy who can't seem to look away from her face, her eyes. She turns on the floor and her hair sweeps to the side as she smiles and looks up at him.

Green eyes.

A shiver runs through his body, contradicting the heat he feels from the room. He knows those eyes, he's seen them on someone else.

Want you_._ The words echo around in his head as though he heard them seconds not years ago.

The song ends and another begins and he nods at Sam. His brother is halfway across the dance floor when the lights go out.

The crowd protest when the music ceases momentarily before it once again bursts to life along with the lights. His eyes seek Sam who had continued to move in the darkness and now comes alongside. The girl is gone along with her partner.

"Dammit. Head out the front and I'll meet you 'round back. She's got hair down to her ass, light brown and a short black dress. Guys my height, black hair and jeans. Be careful Sammy I don't know what her mate looks like but I'll bet he caused the power out."

Sam nods and moves towards the main entrance, all hunter and fluid movement. He glances back once as Dean disappears towards the small corridor leading to the back exit. He freezes as another figure follows the same path as his brother. His eyes harden and his mouth becomes a thin line as he retraces his steps.

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Dean edges soundlessly out the door, a few couples are scattered against the wall outside wrapped around each other. Three guys puff on cigarettes and eye him warily, a distinct sharp smell wafting around him as he passes them. He sees the couple heading down the street then loses them as they turn a corner.

He starts running and rounds the corner, the road dead ends to the left and he sees them pressed up against a wall in the furthest, darkest corner. He reaches down for the consecrated iron blade strapped against his ankle. He wishes they had risked the guns right about now. The knife would still work but it meant getting up close and personal to pierce the heart.

Something was off and he froze.

"Dean drop!"

He hits the pavement and rolls so he's facing the threat and sees a guy drop to his knees, then fall forward to the ground. A knife protruding from his back. A faint blue glow enveloping his body.

He jumps up and pulls the bloodied knife out as Sam sprints up and they hear a scream of violent anger behind them. She knows what they've done.

In one movement he throws Sam his clean knife and his brother catches it on the run.

Dean watches the thing in front of him that looks almost like a regular guy, groaning from being stabbed in the back with a knife. Sam must've only just missed the heart. He wishes he could turn and see his brother, make sure he was okay but instead he sees green eyes.

The same red mouth.

The Skraben before him has a deeper blue glow now as it elongates its form, flexing lethal claws. Dean hasn't seen them change before but knows it wants to feed. Can almost feel its hunger.

"I will have you this time." It whispers aloud.

Dean takes a shuddering breath, his head shaking in disbelief. It couldn't be the same one. "No."

It lunges at him and he's more then ready, stabbing its neck, making sure it doesn't touch him. He knows better this time. It goes down again, snarling and writhing in pain.

The next blow is powerful but it twists at the last minute and he thinks he missed the heart. He hears a terrible noise, wailing anger and sorrow and hate as the other one senses what he's doing. He raises his hand for another strike, blood dripping off the end of the knife.

Then time stops as he hears a yell of pain from his brother cut short. Then silence. Nothing.

Panic.

He's running down the alley into the darkness. She's already changed her shape and glows blue as well, looks almost like some kind of living neon sign. There are two bodies lying on the ground at her feet. Only one of them is moving.

"Sam? Sammy?"

One of the bodies struggles to sit up, covered in blood.

Not Sam.

She half crouches as Dean approaches. He can see she is hurt as well and she circles him looking between him and her injured mate, still prone. The only warning is a snarl as she reaches up and draws a claw across her lips. The bright red fluid trickles down her mouth, looking almost black in the dimness.

He glances at the still form of his brother behind her.

She charges at him then and they hit the ground, his arm is pushed out so the knife only glances across her shoulder as she pins his arms to the side. Her face is inches from his and he breathes in her scent, fights the feeling of dread that is starting to envelope him as he struggles.

She pauses, her eyes seething hate and he still can't look away. He can feel the heat from her body seeping into him and all he wants to know before he dies is if Sam is okay. He doesn't think that's too much to ask for after everything they've been through.

_You will suffer greatly for what you've done hunter. You will wish you had died._

He gasps as the words are ground out inside his head and then can't breathe as his mouth is covered by her lips. The tangy, coppery taste of blood assaults him and he struggles violently, desperately as he feels the warmth slide down his throat making him gag. The pressure is relentless and he involuntarily swallows, eyes wide and drowning in the depth of her gaze.

_You are mine._

She finally breaks the kiss and he still can't move as she licks her tongue slowly across his lips. All he can do is groan and he breaks out in a sweat as he feels her teeth graze down his neck and sink into his shoulder.

His mind is hazy and unfocused now and he clings to feelings of something wrong and danger and Sam as he sinks deeper.

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He feels something on his arm and he moves fast. Too fast apparently as his head spins and lurches and pain erupts down his arm.

"Whoa man. Take it easy, the crazy bitch and her boyfriend are gone. I think you mighta killed him."

Dean squints at the face in front of him and all that registers is Not Sam. He realises he's sprawled on the ground in the semi darkness and his brain is scrambling for some memory of what went down.

His brain kick starts when he sees the long body stretched out on the pavement, head turned away from him and he crawls four feet without breathing.

The other guy is speaking but he doesn't hear, doesn't really care what he's saying. Right now the world could be ending but it would still come a far second to what lies in his arms.

"Sammy, hey wake up."

Dean places his hand on his brother's neck, cradling Sam's head with his arm and brushing hair away. He feels a pulse at the same time he sees the head gash that runs down from above one eyebrow, seeping blood across Sam's eye and down his cheek.

There's a knife, his knife, sticking out of Sam thigh and buried deep.

He shifts a little to check for more injuries and he's rewarded with a low moan. Sam's hand feebly seeks the knife in his leg and Dean gently restrains his wrist.

'Hey it's okay Sam. I've gotcha okay, just lie still."

"I've called an ambulance, they said not to move either of you but then my phone cut out. I didn't know what else to do. That bitch went crazy and your friend saved my life man."

"My brother." Dean managed to nod at the blood covered man standing next to him before his focus returns to his brother. He sees the ragged tear across the lower part of Sam's shirt and his hand comes away wet and slick when he checks. His brother tries to move away, still not conscious but aware enough of the pain. He pulls the shirt up and he sees the slash, knife or claw but it doesn't matter 'cause the skin is ripped and maybe that's the white of a rib but he doesn't really need to know for sure.

Another moan and a sound he knows. "Dn, De…"

"Yeah I'm here Sammy." He hears the sirens and holds on a little tighter to dispel the fear in his gut. He's not sure how this got so fucked up so quickly and he knows it's somehow worse than the injured little brother he is clutching. Knows there's more to this as the copper aftertaste makes the bile rise in his stomach.

But it will just have to wait.

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"Lightsoff." He whispers as he tries to turn over and get away from the harsh brightness that is seeping through his closed eyelids. His stomach lurches with the movement, the pain that rockets through various body parts makes him twist and turn to escape.

He can hear himself groan and then there's a steady pressure on his arm keeping him still.

"Sam?"

"Hppend?"

"Sammy can you open your eyes? You with me?"

"Mmmm." He opens his eyes a little cause Dean asked him to and his brother's voice wasn't quite right. He sees a blurry shape in the white glow and tries to focus in on it but the light is too much. "Hurts."

Dean sees a flash of dark green before his brother's eyes slip closed again and his head sinks gently to the side.

He rubs his thumb absently across his brother's arm and closes his own eyes fighting the drowsiness and worry that is starting to win the battle.

His brother had woken twice before with similar results and Dean had hoped this time he would be more alert but the concussion was taking its damn time. At least it had allowed the doctor to stitch the muscle and skin back together on Sam's leg and stomach without causing too much pain so far. That would be waiting for him when he woke up properly.

He finds himself staring at Sam's face, his mind seeing a younger version of his brother. He wonders how many times he's sat like this waiting for him to wake up, praying to whatever God would listen as long as those eyes opened and everything was okay again. He knows the number would be high, too high to count.

Watching your little brother like this didn't get any easier with practice. It stripped him to the core every time.

This waiting, not knowing, was not okay. They said it was normal, this slipping in and out of consciousness and he knew from a hell of a lot of experience it was but it was still disconcerting. He wanted Sam back. Now.

Then there was the other thing that was eating away at the back of his mind. The minor detail that she had made him drink her blood. His gut clenched at the thought of it.

He moved his shirt aside and peeled back the gauze, looking at the bite mark on his collarbone. It was deep and red but his tetanus shots were up to date and the antibiotics should prevent any minor infection the Doctor had assured him.

He was thinking it probably didn't cover Skraben bites and he really wasn't sure what to expect. He guessed from past experience he should probably just expect the worst.

That usually worked.

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There was a pounding headache and a wave of nausea waiting for him when he woke, still sitting in the bedside chair. Dean felt like he was sitting near a furnace and realised he was covered in a layer of sweat.

Not good.

He checked his watch and saw Sam's arm move to his head, coming into contact with the bandage covering his head wound.

"Ow."

Dean grinned as he saw the dark eyes finally open and stay that way, searching slowly until they found his own.

"Hey. Kept me waiting long enough." Dean kept his voice low.

"How long?" Sam swallowed roughly and squinted around the room, grateful when a cup of water was offered to him. "Thanks."

"I guess about eight hours give or take."

"You okay? I'm a little hazy on the details after psychobitch demon came at me. Man she was feral."

Dean laughed a little. "That's what the other guy said 'cept for the demon bit." The smile drained away. "They got away Sam."

He nodded wearily, not distracted by the fact that Dean hadn't answered him but a little unsure whether it was a planned diversion. He sighed, of course it was and Dean must think he's too out of it to notice.

"We'll catch up with them again. We know what they look like at least, it's not like they can change their human look…" He frowned. "They can't do that can they?"

"Not that I know of Sam."

Sam winced as he tried to move, forgetting exactly what he had hurt. "Help me sit up." He thought he had more chance of assessing Dean's condition if he wasn't flat on his back.

"Take it easy." Dean pressed the buzzer and stood to make sure Sam stayed put for the moment. "I think the Doc should check you out before you…" Everything swayed and lurched. He turned and made the bathroom just in time, closing the door as he heard his brother call out.

Sam braced his hands on the bed and swung his legs to the side but the pain that flared in his side made him list back into the pillow. He struggled to sit up, knowing something was wrong with his brother and berating himself for not pushing for more information when he had the chance. He reached for the IV line.

Another voice made itself known and hands were suddenly preventing him from doing what he wanted. "I wouldn't be pulling that line out just yet, you need the pain medication and you need to stay in bed Mr Wenham. You're not strong enough to be getting up yet."

He squinted at the Doctor blocking his progress. "Dean, my brother, he's sick in there."

Sam watched as the Doctor knocked and spoke through the closed door. He heard the familiar I'm fine and closed his eyes in frustration. Well at least he's conscious, crossed his mind but knowing Dean, that state of being covered everything between actually fine and close to death.

The words gave no comfort to the youngest Winchester.

Sam succumbed to the Doctors check impatiently until finally Dean emerged from the bathroom, shaking his head and giving him that not now look. Sam relented with his own not now but soon stare and looked back up at the ceiling.

"So Doc what's the verdict?" Dean voice gave little away but Sam could see the sheen of sweat and pale skin as his brother just about collapsed back in the chair.

"He'll be fine with some rest, nothing too strenuous for a few weeks to let the abdominal and leg muscles heal. Luckily no organs were damaged and all the vitals seem normal for now. I would like to monitor the concussion for the moment, run a scan just to be sure." The Doctor hooked Sam's clipboard on the end of the bed and turned. "Now what about you, has someone seen you?"

"Yeah, got my prescription and I'm good to go." Dean managed a smirk.

"When can I check out?"

Sam looked at the raised eyebrows of both the men in front of him.

"Well seeing as how you've just woken up, let's give it another day shall we? Get some rest for now." The Doctor smiled as he left the room.

Sam waits a good three seconds before he demands a full recount of what had gone down and exactly why his brother needs a prescription.

Dean sighs and gives in but hesitates when he gets to the final showdown. His hands become the most interesting things in the room as he seeks the words to tell his brother he doesn't know what's going on with him. He decides to skip that part.

"Dean please, what is it? I need to know." Sam was starting to really freak out on the inside cause Dean doesn't get flustered. He doesn't do scared unless it's big.

Dean pulls his shirt collar down and shows Sam the mark. "She bit me and…and she made me swallow her blood." Just the facts nothing more, nothing that will give away that the freak was in his head. He'll just give it some time and see what happens maybe. Definitely not the time to freak his little brother out.

Sam absorbs the statement for a few seconds before he gives in to the glaring reality he doesn't know what that means. His brain is coming up with a big fat no search results on that piece of information and he finds that totally unacceptable.

He almost thinks that Dean doesn't know either but that would mean they were too far out of their depth and he doesn't want to go there. "What…what does that mean? There was nothing in Dad's journal about their blood."

Dean doesn't flinch, he really could have done improv on stage he thinks. In another lifetime.

"It means Sammy, that I've got freakin demon teeth prints in my delicate skin and I'm totally grossed out by the whole bodily fluid thing. Hence the antibiotics."

Sam closes his eyes and thinks oh fuck he doesn't know either. "Get me the papers to sign out, then help me up."

Dean stands his ground. "No Sam you need to stay here, at least until tomorrow."

"Either help me up Dean or get out of my way." Sam makes his point by pulling the IV out of his arm.

"Sammy don't do this…"

"We need to find out what their blood can do and I'm not gonna sit here and just wait for something to happen. Besides we can't protect ourselves in here. Please don't ask me to stay Dean."

Dean stands there and tries to work out when his little brother got so bossy. Tries to remember when Sam started looking after his big brother.

Dean lets out a shaky breath and wonders when he started feeling so shit scared.

He nods and knows Sam understands. He always does.

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Sam sits down slowly on the motel bed and puts his game face on, except he can't help the way his breath is coming out in quick pants to try and combat the pain. He knows Dean has noticed and waits for the lecture.

Dean puts a hand on his shoulder and gives him silence instead. It almost seems worse than I told you so but Sam doesn't complain. Knows his brother is probably running on empty too.

"Here take these."

Sam takes the offered water bottle and swallows the pills. He thinks maybe he should try and stop his hand shaking so much but he's suddenly too tired to bother. He knows he should start researching but his eyes are growing heavy and he punches his fist into the bed which vents some frustration but sure as hell hurts more than he thought it would.

"Sam? What are doing man? What's wrong?"

"Can you get the laptop, I wanna start checking a few things and I can't…I don't think I can get back up." He figures he may as well state the obvious.

"You should rest up a bit first okay. I'm not going anywhere and we could both probably use a few hours shuteye. Start fresh." Dean knows he sounds convincing cause for once he really means it. His fear edging towards this side of panic is fast being overtaken by exhaustion.

He's pretty sure he could sleep. They're safe for the moment and Sam's a little broken but he'll be okay.

Sam knows his brother needs this too. He also knows Dean won't rest unless he does and he's not really in any shape to argue with logic.

"Yeah 'kay. A few hours."

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It's dark when he wakes and he waits a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. There's an ache in his body that he's sure wasn't there before, feels like he's run a marathon. Except he can't remember and he's brain is only working at half speed.

It's wrong. Everything's all wrong.

He sits up then and knows he's in trouble so fucking deep he can't even begin to comprehend.

He looks around a room he hasn't seen before, sparse details illuminated by the streetlights and some green flashing sign that flickers on and off through the one small window. He sees his duffel on the floor against the wall.

The bed he is on is the only one in the room and the sheets are a tangled mess around him, just like his clothes. He stares at his unbuttoned shirt and opened jeans.

He wants to spit the acrid copper taste from his mouth but that's before he sees the blood covering his hands, splattered up his forearms. Now he just wants to throw up cause he's pretty damn sure it's not his blood.

He knows Sam isn't here and knows he should probably be glad about that but his eyes wander back to the blood and his mind starts to go places he doesn't want it to cause he would never do that.

Never hurt Sammy. He wouldn't.

A soft laugh from behind him makes his body tense as he tries to determine fight or flight but the response is taken out of his control when his limbs don't respond how they should and he stumbles to the floor. It dawns on him that he's been drugged.

"What did you do to me? Where's my brother?"

"You belong to me now Dean, you don't have a brother anymore."

_Remember you are mine._

He pushes his forehead into the carpet as the voice forces itself into his head and he closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see the green eyes he knows are watching him.

_tbc…_


	2. Chapter 2

**What doesn't kill you****...**

…**sometimes makes you wish it had.**

Disclaimer: Don't own or profit from anything Supernatural.

_a/n: I fell off the grid for a bit there but it felt good to write this and I hope you enjoy it. If I haven't replied to your review I'm sorry and I'll try and get back to speed. _

_(I haven't forgotten Sticks and Stones but I needed this more)._

_lb._

**Chapter 2**

He likes the darkness.

He thinks it's where he belongs.

The sounds resonate through his body and he likes how it feels, doesn't care how the music sounds.

He knows she is with him, doesn't think she ever really leaves even when he can't see her.

His head is mostly filled with her wants and needs but sometimes he catches a glimpse of something else, something that belongs to him. Something that means he's still alive and in here somewhere. It mostly stays just out of his reach but he knows it's there and when her voice grows quiet and the drugs wear off a little, he wants it so badly.

He wants to remember.

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He smiles seductively at the girl in the short silver dress that hugs at the curves of her hips and shows the swell of her breasts. It's not hard to watch her body move as they dance, pressing into each other. Sharing heat.

He whispers in her ear and holds her hand as he leads her outside and into the darkness.

Into her death.

He hesitates briefly, squeezing his eyes shut.

_Kiss her. Want her._

The voice makes him move and he presses her roughly into the wall behind and can't help the moan escape him as she grinds her hips into him. He turns them so his back is pressed into the bricks and she wraps a leg around him.

He feels the pressure increase suddenly, almost painfully as the girl is pushed up against him and he tries to breathe. Tries not to enjoy it. She is here now and he hopes he can just fade away into the background until it's over.

_Watch. _

His eyes open without any further instruction, he has no will of his own. He thinks he can still feel something though because he grieves every time she makes him hunt with her.

The girl has a surprised look on her face as though she's going to ask him a question but the knife across her throat only allows for a gurgling, choking noise. He watches as she places her mouth against the cut and drinks greedily, eyes half closed. She bites and claws some more in a frenzy and Dean catches the girl as she falls and gently places her on the ground.

At least it was quick he tells himself as his eyes dull and he wishes it was him lying on the cold ground. He lets his mind go somewhere else then, somewhere dark, as a tear runs unknowingly down his face but now all he's capable of is wondering why his vision is blurry.

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He's learning not to fight against her. There's an instinct in him that won't be shut down, that says this is wrong and bad and can't happen. Not again. He knows now he has to ignore it. It's better for them if he just doesn't fight what she wants.

He remembers the boy. He was tall and smiling and she wanted him so Dean got him. He let himself be led outside and they walked to the park around the block and in the darkness he felt hands and teeth and wet, hungry kisses. Felt the rough bark scrape against his back as he felt the boys hands on his hips, felt his tongue in his mouth. Knew she was watching in the shadows.

Then she was gone.

He gasped and pushed the hard body away from him. "Run."

"Why, what are you…"

Dean pulled the knife to make his point. "Run, please just get out of here now."

The boy's eyes went wide, pupils still blown with lust as he backed away. "You freak."

Dean would've laughed at that cause it sure as hell hit the mark but it stuck in his throat when he saw her walk up behind the boy. Touch his arm and whisper in his ear.

Her eyes fell upon him then and Dean cringed but he couldn't look away. He never could.

_Come. You will regret this, he will pay for your treachery._

He followed her to the car and got in next to the boy. They hadn't taken the kill back to their room before but he knew this would be different. She was mad and it was his fault.

She didn't usually make him use the knife, that was normally her thing. He just lured them to their death then she made him watch. Sometimes she let him close his eyes.

It was different this time. She cupped his face almost tenderly and told him this was a lesson for his disobedience. Told him that this was his fault as she tied the boy to the bed without a struggle and made Dean get on top of him. Made him draw blood.

Made him do things he wants to forget so badly.

Her lesson went for hours and by the end Dean was covered in blood and other things, some his own but mostly not. She made him sleep next to the cooling body but he can still hear the gagged screams of the boy. The lesson only finished because the muffled sounds of pain and pleading finally, thankfully stopped.

He wraps his arms around his body and just wants to forget. He welcomes the drug when she pushes it into his arm cause he knows he is free for a while. He welcomes the darkness. Wishes he could stay there forever.

He knows now just to do what she wants.

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She doesn't always drug him. Sometimes she just uses her touch and voice. to suppress him and lets him drive. Lets a part of him almost come to the surface but not quite.

He likes it when he can drive. He doesn't know why but it feels good. He thinks it's the only good thing he knows now. That and the darkness.

He knows they have been doing this for a while and wonders how long. He didn't know he had said it out loud until she answered him.

"You have been with me for seven weeks and there will be one more."

"Why?" He asks before he can stop himself and he flinches and hopes she doesn't get mad again.

He still hasn't got the screaming out of his head or the blood out of his fingernails from last time.

She looks across at him and he stares at the road ahead. "We feed until the snow and then we will sleep. Then you will die."

His heart rate increases and he tries not to smile or laugh. One more week and it will be over. No more pain or blood or sex or hope. Only darkness. It never occurs to him there is any other option.

He frowns. "We? There are more of you?" He thinks he knew this but can't be sure. Information niggling in the background of his brain somewhere.

She smiles at him and he feels the warmth wash over his body as she lets her pheromones suffuse his senses. Her hand slides along his arm and he feels his awareness dull a little and he doesn't fight it.

"My mate is hurt and has been sleeping but he is awake now and needs to be fed as well. You will be my gift to him when we are done. You will make amends for what you did."

He stares at the road again and let's her heat seep into his thoughts so he doesn't have any of his own.

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He can feel the sweat on his body and he sits up surprised it's still light. He feels sluggish but normally the drugs keep him asleep, controlled most of the day, wearing off late afternoon. In time for the night. She was always there when he woke.

He can't remember being out in the sunshine. He knows he can't remember a lot of things but you don't know what you don't know which makes it easier sometimes.

He looks around but she's not there and he can't sense her either. He's getting better at that, knowing her presence.

He sees his bag in the corner and puts clean clothes on and stares at the worn duffel. She said it was his and he knows it belongs to him, feels right but he doesn't remember what's in it. His hand rummages idly through its contents as he becomes more coherent than he has been in weeks.

Seven weeks.

He finds an amulet on a short black string. He isn't sure why, but he feels better when he puts it on.

He finds a small knife honed to sharpness in a black leather sheath. It's different from the one she lets him use and the handle fits his hand like home.

His hands shake and he can't breathe as one word suddenly fills his mind. He freezes in fear and looks at the door and thinks he will make someone else die in pain if he goes out there.

His hands clench into fists as he stands at the door and his body is almost incapacitated by mind numbing fear at the thought of opening it.

Almost.

His eyes tear up as he squints in the harsh sunlight and he feels disorientated, nauseas. He sees what he wants at the far side of the courtyard near the sign that says Reception.

He closes the small door and picks up the receiver, staring at the numbers in front of him and willing his brain to work as his hands press the buttons. Willing himself to remember.

He finds some change in his jeans pocket and uses it. There are noises on the line and then it rings. Just before he thinks it will cut out, a voice is there. A voice that matches the one word that is filling his whole head.

He remembers.

"Sammy?"

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_**Seven weeks ago**_

There's a burning pain across his stomach and his head feels like it's weighed down with lead. It takes him a beat to remember. Takes him a second to know where he is.

Takes him no time at all to sense that something is wrong.

He knows there is someone else in the room. Something else that shouldn't be there.

He sits up clutching his body against the burning, tearing feeling and realises there is no weapon within his reach.

"Dean." He calls out but he is pinned back against the mattress by a hand around his throat. He fights against the fog creeping into his brain.

He sees another shape moving and braces himself for the blast or impact or whatever else Dean is going to use against this thing.

He waits but it doesn't come.

The door opens and the shadow of his brother moves outside.

Gone.

Sam shakes his head a little, still fighting the chokehold, and the pain he was ignoring hits him again. Hard.

Hits him twice as much as it should have as it dawns on him that his brother has just walked out the door and left him. He thinks crazily that Dean had his bag over one shoulder but that would mean he wants to go.

Dean left him?

God no, something's wrong. He knows he has to get to Dean. Realises he can't and cries out with the effort.

_He's mine now. Remember that_.

Sam groans as something fills his mind and then he feels a heat through his body that he doesn't want. Shouldn't need.

He groans again but this time for a different reason as she grinds into him and he drinks in her green eyes like he is dying of thirst.

He opens his mouth and welcomes her tongue as he arches into her, oblivious to the blood that seeps from the torn stitches across his body.

_Sleep well Sam_.

He feels the raking claws across his chest and side but for a moment isn't sure whether it's pain or pleasure. His body finally decides on the former and his screams are muffled by her lips. Drinking in his agony until only silence fills the room.

She looks back at the bloodied body lying across the bed and decides she will let it keep breathing if it can. She will let fate decide the outcome, it might prove useful in the future.

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There's hands on him and movement and flashing lights. Everything spins and shakes and he closes his eyes.

Someone is speaking near him and he feels fingers open his eyes one at a time. The light aches and he tries to move his head away. Something covers his mouth and cool air slips between his lips, makes him shudder as he draws it into his lungs.

There's something pressing on his ribs and chest and it hurts. It's too much and he lets himself slip away.

No reason to stay.

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Eyelids flutter and a hand moves slightly, fingers seeking something that's out of reach.

The steady beep is the first thing, the only thing that he can focus on like some kind of homing beacon. It drags him up from someplace dark and quiet and he's not really sure why.

Pain is the next thing that makes itself known but it's almost like an old friend and he can deal with it. Push it aside.

There should be something else and he tries to find it but all that meets his blurred vision is an empty room and he still doesn't find a reason to stay.

No one even knows he was there.

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A hand on his arm and he opens his eyes like he's expecting someone.

"Mr Wenham? Sam can you hear me?"

He squints and thinks he says something but he's not sure. The hand moves from his arm and returns this time to his face. Something moves from across his nose and mouth and there's someone else in the room now but it's too hard to concentrate.

"Sam do you know where you are?"

He thinks that's a pretty dumb question but he answers anyway just to make them go away. "With my brother."

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The Doctor looks at him with kindness that's fallen way over the edge of undisguised pity. "We haven't had any calls Sam I'm sorry. There hasn't been any contact with your brother or anyone else. Is there someone we can call for you?"

Don't ask the question if you don't want to know the answer he mocks himself. There was no one else here to give him a reality check so it was all up to him.

"Thanks Doc. There's no one, its fine really. I need to leave though. Today."

"I wish you would reconsider Sam. After being in ICU for nearly a month and with the complications you've had, I don't recommend leaving just yet son."

"I need to find my brother." He gives a tight smile that may or may not look more desperate than anything but its all he's got right now.

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Sam is sweating buckets by the time the cab deposits him back at the motel where he hopes the Impala is still waiting. He's relieved his duffel was forwarded to the hospital and even more so that it didn't appear to have been opened. He's pretty sure the local law would have been asking about the knives and sawn off in the false bottom by now if it had been.

He had already dealt with their questions about the state he was found in and who had attacked him. It wasn't hard to throw them off the scent.

The motel owner had let the hospital staff know he would let the car stay for the time being, as long as he didn't need the parking space. Sam looked around the half empty lot and guessed peak season hadn't arrived just yet.

It wasn't until he slid into the driver's seat that everything came crashing down on him, crushing his chest until he was gasping like there was no air left to breathe. Maybe he had just held it in. Buried it deep while everyone was watching like they were waiting for him to break into pieces so they could pretend like they were going to fix him.

He remembered that day now. The hateful voice writhing in his head.

He's mine now.

Screw that to hell and back he thought.

Knew that his brother had been taken and had been gone for over a month but Dean was strong and he could be too. He was going to fix this.

There was no room in his mind to consider anything else like Dean might be dead cause that was just not an option. He was going to get his brother back and that was the only thing that was going to fix him.

He leant his head on the steering wheel and knew the pain in his chest would be gone if he just breathed, just gave in a little before he shattered completely. He took a breath and his body shook to its core as he sobbed for his brother. For the time that he had been gone and the time he had been alone, abandoned. For the fear of what might be and the agony of not knowing.

The tears were still running down his face when he switched off his emotions. Decided enough was enough and he couldn't function like this and still be able to do what he needed. If anyone had been watching they would have seen the set of his jaw harden and the light behind his eyes dull.

Except there was no one there to see the spark extinguish.

This hunt would either save them both or it would be the end.

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Sam feels like he almost knows the person on the other end of the phone when she politely tells him the number is switched off or out of service. She always says the same thing but he always waits to hear the whole message in case there's something different but there never is and he hates himself for holding his breath a little every time.

He rang Ash not long after he hit the road. He said they'd been hurt but were back on the case again and he needed to know which way. He didn't think Ash believed him but was thankful there weren't too many questions and he knew he could trust the guy.

Dean did and that was good enough anyway.

Ash said they'd switched cars but he was on it like friggin' bongs on a beach. Sam actually laughed at that. He didn't have a clue what it meant but he laughed anyway.

It felt good and he felt guilty.

He didn't laugh again, just headed towards Nevada and followed the blood trail. He asked Ash to keep the job under the radar and didn't mention Dean wasn't with him, didn't think other hunters would care too much about being careful. It was better he did this by himself.

One town blurred into another and his life became one endless road. It was different by himself. There was nothing to mark the passing of the days, nothing to ground him in the present. No one to take the edge off life and make it feel like he was a part of something.

He came close in Carson City, even closer in Bakersfield but then they double backed up the coast like they knew he was on to them.

He slept most nights in the car now. He didn't have to deal with people that way, didn't have to speak unless he needed to cause he really didn't have the stomach for it anymore.

There was blood on his shirt again and he booked a room for the night so he could do repairs. He had been on the road for three weeks and he had probably torn the muscle again and the stitches across his abdomen.

It didn't really hurt anymore, it was probably too damaged. He showered and replaced the stitches anyway.

It was mid afternoon and he took a handful of tablets. A mixture of antibiotics and pain meds cause he knew he couldn't afford to get sick even though he really didn't care anymore. He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, may as well get some sleep before he hunted. The deep ache in his chest and leg that kept time with his heartbeat lulled him to sleep as good as any lullaby.

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The ringing in his head wouldn't leave him alone and he rubbed a hand across his eyes like he could wipe the sound away. It didn't work and the noise became familiar as his brain rose from the depths of sleep.

He reached across to the table and brought the phone to his ear. Ash must have news or a new direction at least.

"Sammy?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He figures his brain must have blown a circuit cause he can't speak. He might have even deep fried some brain cells at the same time cause he can't form a coherent thought either.

Some unintelligible noise comes out of his mouth and his lips form a silent word of their own accord.

"Sammy, oh God please."

"Dean?" He manages to whisper the word out loud.

Once he speaks, the words and thoughts hit him like rapid fire from an automatic and he can feel his heart just about thumping out of his chest.

"Dean are you okay, where are you, I've been trying to find you?"

"Sam? I didn't know if you…I'm, I don't know…"

The words trail off and Sam panics for a minute and thinks he gone. "It's okay man, you still there?" Please he thinks, please be there.

"Yeah. I just don't know where I am Sammy."

"Okay look around and tell me what you see."

"A motel, I'm near the office of a motel. She's gone Sammy but I don't know how long. I think…I think she'll be back and she's gonna be mad again. I can't do it again, I can't Sam."

Sam steadies his breathing cause Dean is scared enough for the both of them and he needs to calm him down. "What's the motel called Dean, can you see the name?'

There's a pause that takes far too long and Sam's fist clenches and unclenches as he wills Dean to give him an answer before the fucking sun spins off its axis and his mind starts to imagine exactly what Dean can't do again.

"Pine Forest Inn…Placerville. I'm in Placerville Sam."

"I'm not far Dean. God I'm not far okay. You need to get out of there, find somewhere safe. Can you do that? Go somewhere crowded, a shopping mall something like that?"

"Dean?" Sam heard the beeps on the line that signalled the paid call time was just about up. "Dean, call me collect when you get there okay? It's gonna be okay, I'm gonna find you."

"Dean?"

"Dean can't come to the phone right now. He's been a bad boy and so have you. I told you he's mine now and you can't have him back."

The phone went dead and Sam went cold.

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He felt her before she even touched him and still he could do nothing but drop the phone and back against the corner of the small cubicle.

"Get away from me." He spat the words with more venom that he thought he was capable of and he knew he was still there. The hunter and brother were still intact somewhere inside him.

He watched her as her fingers curled around the swinging receiver and slowly slid his hand into his pocket. He felt a surge of anguish and hate wash through him as she spoke to his brother.

It was the hunter that drew the knife from his pocket and drove it into her arm as she hung up the phone and reached for him. It was the older brother in him that whispered sorry Sammy as he felt the pain in his own arm and dropped to his knees in stunned surprise.

He didn't think he'd be here when his brother arrived.

He saw with some satisfaction that she grimaced as she pulled the blade out but again he could feel the tug and pull of his own skin. "How?" He watched as his shirt sleeve turned a crimson red.

"Why Dean you drank my blood so I could control you when I wanted but just like I let you feel my pleasure, I also let you feel my pain if I choose. We are linked for life." She touched his face and he felt himself slipping into the warmth. "And death."

_Come. We will wait for your brother._

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Sam had been in Stockton when Dean rang and he covered the ninety miles give or take in an hour. Darkness was creeping in and he pulled up across the road from the Pine Forest Inn.

The dirt crusted white Landcruiser was at the end of the motel lot and Sam didn't know whether to be scared or surprised. It had to be a trap but he had no choice about walking into it. His only choice was how smart he could do it and he knew there would be little room for error. If any.

He went over every detail he could remember, trying to establish a plan of attack. There had been two of them in the alley but Dean had only mentioned the girl although Sam had to assume he would be going against both of them. He couldn't risk waiting to see if they came out to feed or move on, not when he knew his brother was in there.

Dean had waited long enough.

Sam got out of the car and opened the trunk.

He thinks he has everything he needs to do this and if pure hate and rage is thrown into the mix then he may just be going in over armed.

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Dean sits on the bed in the room and tries to makes sense of what just happened, what is happening to him. He knows she controls him and he knows now she can filter exactly how much he feels and what he remembers.

She is letting him remember who he was and what he is now.

Maybe this is worse.

The full impact of the things he's done hit him like a physical body blow that leaves him reeling and disorientated. He knew before what she was doing, making him do but it was as though he was in a constant haze that never quite cleared enough to feel…this.

"Why is everything still in my head? I know I'm a hunter, why are you…giving me my memory?" He vaguely wonders whether he asking her to take it away again.

"You deceived me but there are things I must do with little time and I will travel faster alone. I will still offer you as a gift to my love but for now I will let the boy take you, unless he kills you first. You will both follow me where I need you to be at the end anyway. In the meantime, the memory I give you is your punishment."

"He'll kill you when he gets here. He's not gonna just stroll in here unprepared."

"Then he'll kill you also. I will share my pain and death with you Dean. He won't be prepared for that."

"I swear I'll make sure you mate dies slowly. As slowly as that boy…" Dean loses the words as the images and the blood and the pain flood through him along with the hate. Hate for her and just as much hate for himself for being a part of this.

She moved towards him, smiling and soft and sinful and he still can't fucking move when she tilts his head up and covers his mouth with her lips. He moans in lust and repulsion at the same time as his body betrays him and his mind is filled with her.

He thinks of the knife and a sob escapes him when he knows he hasn't got it and all he wants to do is push it through her flesh. Or his own.

Whatever works.

He feels himself slipping away again but he fights it even though he doesn't want to, he really just wants to forget. But Sam is coming and his instincts tell him hunters aren't supposed to go quietly into the night.

At least not until the hunt is finished.

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Sam kicks the door open the first time his foot explodes against it and it crashes open and hits the wall before rebounding back. He's already in the room and he braces a shoulder and sends the door flying back away from him as he holds the rifle hip high and primed.

He's all action and adrenaline and takes in every detail in a snapshot as he assesses and moves and looks every which way in the room so he knows what he's up against.

The he just stops.

She is standing in the shadows against the wall, hands at her side and a smile on her face. A smile.

He wants to just shoot it right off her fucking face but he hesitates. There's gotta be more to this and the term smoke and mirrors runs through his head but he can't see what he's missing.

He breathes hard as he finally allows himself to glance at the figure sitting motionless on the end of the bed. Wonders for a second whether it really is Dean or just some cardboard cut-out

cause his brother wouldn't just be sitting there unless something was wrong. Maybe scratch that cause wrong sounds like some bad movie choice or stupid mistake that any normal person could make not the absolutely fucked up screwed up mess they were currently in.

"What have you done to him?"

"What haven't I done…?"

"Dean?"

"Sammy, shoot her. Just kill the fucking bitch. Please Sammy." He doesn't remember hearing Dean beg before. Not like this, voice raw and desperate.

Sam aimed for the heart.

"Might want to stop there for a minute Sam. Dean forgot to mention something that you might find important."

"And what would that be exactly?" Sam ground the words out. He knew better than anyone that demons lied but sometimes they used the awful truth as well.

"You kill me, you kill your brother as well."

"Nice try but I don't think so."

"Willing to risk it Sam? You think my only connection with Dean is through mind and touch? He can feel my pain although mostly he's been feeling my pleasure but I promise you I will channel my death." Her mouth twisted again and she stepped towards him.

"Dean? Is it true?"

Dean stood slowly like it took every ounce of strength.

"Dean?"

She advanced slowly towards him and for a second his finger brushed the trigger but then he dropped the rifle at his feet and reached behind him with both hands, one gripping a flask and the other a salt loaded handgun.

"Stay back." Sam knew Dean's no answer was as good as a yes but he still had to stop her. He guessed if she touched him again they were both as good as dead.

She hesitated briefly. "Let me leave peacefully."

"Not gonna happen bitch." Dean's voice was gravel, low and dangerous. Sam stood a little straighter when he heard it.

"What he said." Sam aimed again.

"Then it's gonna get a little messy."

She changed her shape and moved at Sam and he felt the pull of her seep around him as she got closer. Felt the blue heat almost touch him.

"Sam, now."

He had no choice, no options. There was nothing to give away the fact that she wanted this, wanted him to pull the trigger. She was trying to get out the door and he couldn't just let her go.

He fired.

She screamed and barely stayed on her feet, clutching her chest as the impact of the rock salt exploded into her body.

Dean fell to the floor silently.

Sam was barely aware of the fact that she staggered to the door and paused looking back at them before her shadow disappeared into the darkness.

He was too busy holding his brother.

Finally.

Except it wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be bloody and broken and painful like he hadn't saved anyone.

tbc…


	3. Chapter 3

**What doesn't kill you…**

…**sometimes makes you wish it had.**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural.

**Chapter 3**

Sam closes the door behind him with the weight of his shaking body and looks at the still figure on the bed as he approaches and sits down slowly, almost reverently. He had driven across town cause someone would've heard the gunshot so they had to leave, but he didn't think he could go any further.

"Dean?" He doesn't recognise the strangled word that escapes his lips so he tries again. "Dean please wake up."

He sees the red stain on his brother's shirt and knows that the blood has all but dried on his skin but he fetches a damp cloth as he suddenly has to get the blood off because it shouldn't be there. It wasn't supposed to be there.

Sam hesitates as the too thin body catches his eyes and the outline of ribs through Dean's t-shirt, the blackness beneath the closed eyes and the deathly stillness is too much. He fights the urge to just put his brother in the backseat of the Impala and drive for seven weeks back the way they'd come, go back and start over. Wipe the slate clean.

The flex of a hand and a moan and Sam automatically places a calming hand on his brother's shoulder. "It's okay you're safe."

He feels muscles tighten, hell he sees the way his brother becomes a tightly coiled spring like it's ingrained when they wake from injury, in possible danger. Second nature now after a childhood of practice, after a lifetime of use.

Dean's eyes open impossibly wide and he moves so fast Sam can do nothing but stare at him in confusion and relief and everything in between that has been locked away for three weeks. Maybe more.

"Dean its okay now, you're safe." Sam repeats the words calmly, waiting for them to sink in because his brother must not have heard him the first time except Dean just shakes his head like Sam's saying the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"No, not safe. You're not safe. Go. Get away. Please."

"Dean, it's me. It's Sam."

Dean's face twists and his eyes focus a little more even as his body sags. "Sammy?"

"Yeah Dean, I'm here." Sam takes a step forward cause he's not really sure how his brother is even managing to stand and he wants to catch him before he falls again.

He's fallen enough.

Dean backs away until he contacts the wall with a startled gasp that has him trying to control his breathing. Sam thinks he looks too much like an animal caught in a trap, wild and desperate. Sam instinctively takes another step forward and his heart sinks when he sees, when he knows, what his brother is trying to get away from.

"You're hurt Dean, let me help you." Sam holds an arm out. Please Dean oh God, please let me help you.

Dean looks down at himself and his forehead creases in confusion before he looks back up, reality slowly overtaking past horrors. His mind and body feel overwhelmed and something resonates in his head that he needs to get away before he hurts anyone else, before she comes. He catches a glimpse of the face in front of him and something in the dark green eyes shatters him and puts him together, draws him in until he can almost see who he is again.

The feeling opens him up and defeats him and he isn't aware that he is sliding down the wall. His brother's name ghosts out from his lips in an almost silent plea. He doesn't even know what he is asking for but knows he's found it when something grips his arm. He desperately wants to feel something even as he automatically tries to push it away.

Sam sees something break behind the desperate eyes that hold his own for a second but it's enough to make him move and reach out and hold the thin wrists that even now try to fight against him. He crouches in front of his brother and pulls him in and just stays there until the fists lay still and uncurl and its just Dean.

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He hasn't uttered a word since Sam half carried him back to the bed, just sits still, head bowed as if in prayer or penance.

Sam places a clean bowl of warm soapy water at his feet and sits down on the bed next to his brother, careful not to disturb the other first aid items he has already laid out.

He swallows. "Dean I need to clean you up a bit, see where you're hurt okay."

He jumps a little when Sam places a hand on his shoulder but Sam waits, knowing Dean has to be ready for this and he'll wait as long as it takes.

Dean continues to stare at his hands but nods his head a little.

Sam peels back the flannel shirt carefully and sees the t-shirt underneath is caked in blood and he starts cutting it off as he talks. His voice is deliberately calm and soothing and he talks about nothing and everything just to keep that link with his brother so he doesn't drift too far into the void that he is staring into.

Sam loses the words for a good minute when he sees the bruises and bites and tears that litter his brother's back and chest and arms and he clamps down on the anger that is now bubbling just below the surface. He bites his lip so hard it bleeds into his mouth when he sees the tracks on his brother's arms and he doesn't know what he's supposed to do with that, he's so far out of his depth as it is but he has to deal. Has to fucking get a grip right now.

He concentrates on the arm wound that still seeps red and the fresh blood that wells from scores of small chest cuts. He did this to Dean when he shot her but he knows what to do, has dealt with this kind of injury before.

"God Dean, I'm…God I'm sorry." He gently washes the blood away and covers the damaged skin with gauze. "I'll get you something to help with the pain."

He walks back from the sink and hands the cup and three pills to Dean, noticing the wince as he swallows, noticing the bruises around his neck. Unmistakeable hand marks.

Sam takes the cup and notices a dark stain on the waistband of his brother's jeans. "Lie down, let me see this." He lifts the denim a little and catches sight of an ugly open wound that covers the hipbone and surrounding skin. Teeth marks.

Dean gasps and wrenches away from him. "No."

"Dean it looks bad, I need to clean it at least."

"No. Leave it. Please Sam. No."

Sam relents as his brother regresses back to the caged animal, almost rocking in fear.

Sam holds his hands up, knows he can't push too much. "Okay Dean, I'll leave it for now. Maybe check it tomorrow if you want. Just sleep now okay. Just get some rest."

He doesn't offer any protest and Sam just gets him to lie down on his back and covers him with the quilt before he checks the door and window and lays a salt line. Sam places a gun in his waistband and a knife on the table, powers up the laptop and moves the chair at the small table so he can see both the door and his brother at a glance.

He needs to find a way to kill this demon without killing his brother. He glances over to the still form and wonders what other marks have been left behind. He thinks maybe the ones he can't see will be the worst cause he won't know what damage they're causing till it's too late.

Sam feels like he's drowning in fear and the one person who can drag him out from beneath the icy water is lost to him right now. If he wasn't so numb from the cold he would probably break down a little, lose himself in the anguish but this wasn't the time to break. This wasn't the time to start feeling anything.

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Dean controls his breathing as he lies on the bed and listens to the sounds of Sam as he moves about the room. He wants to relax and feel safe just for a minute but there's too much going on in his head and just for an instant he wants the nothingness back. He didn't know it was going to hurt so much to remember.

He doesn't think he should ask Sam if he found the drugs. If he could just have something to help him forget. Just this time.

His thoughts drift away with the tapping of the keyboard, a sound that means Sam is safe and he's not alone.

He can't see her but she's watching him and he hears her voice as he loses himself in the darkness and heat. He feels the lust and adrenaline as she feeds and claws and kills. His heart races and he tries to cry out but there's blood in his mouth and she's laughing in his head.

Trapped.

"No."

Suffocating.

"No."

_I won't let you forget. I will be back for you._

"No. No. No." There's hands on him holding down, trying to stop him running. Escaping.

"No."

"Dean stop! Wake up, you're okay."

The hands are firm but they don't hurt him, they only calm him and he doesn't know why so he opens his eyes, wonders where the hell he is before he sees Sam. Scared eyes and messy hair and he understands he's safe but he's still got to stop her.

There's a basic instinct that drives Dean to sacrifice himself and he knows in an instant what he has to do to stop this. He can still taste the blood in his mouth but maybe it's not too late and he has to try anyway. He grips his brother's arms to steady himself and ignores the confusion and fear in front of him as he sees what he needs on the table.

Sam was already standing as his brother began thrashing in the hold of some nightmare but was still surprised when Dean moved quickly and made it halfway across the room towards the door. He grabbed the flailing arms, ignoring the fists that pounded into his sides, and finally sees recognition looking back at him. Some form of clarity as his brother grips his arms.

He loosens his hold a little, doesn't want to overstep and bring back the panic from being touched.

He was totally unprepared when Dean lunged for the knife but his reaction time together with the long reach of his body allowed him to grip the hand as it closed over the hilt of the knife. He pushed his brother's hand to the side and their momentum crashed Dean's back into the closed door and Sam pulled the knife away.

"Dean?" Sam was panting from the effort as he felt the burn in his own still healing body.

"I've got to stop her Sam, she's killing someone now. Please. Please, I can't kill anyone else and if I'm gone I think she... Please Sam."

"What? What are you…you kill yourself and you think that'll fix it? You don't even know if she can feel your pain do you? You can't just…"

"I think she can Sam, I think she can if it hurts enough. If I finish it."

"You think…?" Sam had no idea that tears spilled down his face as he realised he nearly witnessed his brother's suicide. "How can you…y'think it's okay to just end it on the chance it might work? You think these killings are you fault? These demons were controlling you Dean and I know I let you down, and I didn't come for you soon enough but…"

Sam lashed out and pushed against his brother's shoulder in fear and pain and self loathing that he could not contain.

"…but don't you dare do this Dean cause I swear if you end it I'll follow right behind you."

Sam moved his hand away from Dean as though it suddenly hurt, burned through him. He turned away drained of everything except the physical act of drawing breath. Dean was still hurt and confused and he should be holding this in not letting loose this fear. He tried to bury it back down, push it kicking and screaming back into his head and turned back to his brother with nothing left.

He felt the knife slip from his fingers and fall to the floor.

If Dean went for it now he didn't think he'd have the strength to stop him. He would just keep his word and go with his brother wherever he went.

The words sank into Dean like acid rain, burning and biting and seeping through the layers until they hit home. It was bigger than this hunt, bigger than the pain and terror he felt, more important than anything.

_Take your brother outside Dean as fast as you can._

"Sammy? God, m'sorry Sammy. I didn't mean…God not in front of you…I don't know what to do Sam. I don't know what the fuck I'm s'posed to do but she's in my head and I can't do this anymore. I can't feel this and I can't forget it. I can't."

Sam saw the look of resignation and help me and I can't hang on anymore but what he clung on to was the glimpse of Dean that he saw for a second. That's all he needed.

"I know okay I know. We'll work this out and we'll fix it okay. We're gonna finish this Dean and you're gonna be okay"

Please be okay Dean.

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Sam's eyes are like bowls of grit and he squeezes them closed before squinting into the hint of daylight creeping in through the thin curtain. Stretching his shoulders and leaning his head back produces a series of cracks that sound alarmingly loud in the stillness.

"Have a rest Sam." He's too numb to be startled by the low voice. "It's daylight."

Dean doesn't say any more but he doesn't have to as Sam understands what he means. She doesn't kill in the daylight.

"Thought you were asleep." His voice sounds odd, flat and emotionless even though he feels like there's too much pain, hope, anger, mind numbing fear in him to fill up more than his own lifetime.

"Sleep's overrated."

Sam closes his eyes and smiles and just for a second lets himself forget about last night and the way his brother gripped his arm hard enough to bruise so he wouldn't get lost in the darkness. Pushes out of his head how Dean had clutched the knife for a split second like it was his only salvation amongst the carnage. He lets himself breathe cause Dean is here and with him even though it seems he's only hanging on by a thread.

Sam isn't about to let go of him anytime soon.

"Maybe." He stands stiffly and crosses the room. "You should shower so I can check your…" cuts, bruises, fucking teeth marks, "injuries." He swallows down the sudden anger at the creature that did this, used his brother, marked him like some possession.

"Give me a minute." Dean sits up slowly and Sam can't tell what is hurting, there's too many options to choose from so he says nothing. "You go first Sam."

He stops.

"It's okay Sam, I'll still be here."

"Take these first." He thinks it's best not to answer cause they both know what he means and for the moment at least, Sam is sure Dean is winning the struggle. He hands the pain meds to his brother and grabs some clean clothes before closing the bathroom door.

Sam wonders if his hands will stop shaking long enough to turn the water on.

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He knows Sam is hovering, unsure what to do or how to help but he doesn't mind although he doesn't know what to say either. Nothing comforting springs to mind and Sam sure as hell doesn't need a lie right now about how everything's gonna be okay.

He realises he's wringing his hands and suddenly the room is too small and he closes his eyes and crushes his fingers together until he thinks he's gonna snap a bone but it takes his mind off the fact that his skin is crawling and he can't make it stop.

He knows they have to take her down and it'll probably end him too… _we are linked for life and death_…but he can't get the image of Sam out of his head. He nearly took his own life in front of his little brother, knife to the heart in all its blood and glory would've been the last thing Sammy remembered of him. He wonders for a second if Sam would've kept his promise but he can't dwell on that cause he has enough blood on his hands as it is and there are just some things that twist too deep.

He feels nauseas and the water hurts and comforts and he tries not to look at the wreck that is his body. Was his body. He doesn't feel like he owns it anymore and that's a good thing otherwise he might feel sick and used and just fucking betrayed that he hadn't put up a fight.

He washes himself but doesn't think he'll ever be clean again.

The jeans feel rough on the bruises and claw marks that cover his legs but they open a new agony as they rest on his hips. One is far worse than the other and is still blood red and ripped open but he'll never let Sam see them properly, he's too ashamed, and tapes the gauze clumsily across his abdomen before securing his jeans and shirt then walking back into the room under a watchful stare.

"I need to check…"

"It's done Sam. We need to go over some things."

"You don't have to…I want…you're not alone anymore Dean. Let me help you."

"Just give me some time Sam okay. I know I'm not alone but I just…it's hard okay but that's not your fault."

"She…she gave you drugs. Do you, do you know which ones? I found them in the room and, and your arms, the marks on your arms Dean." Sam can't be coherent right now when he thinks that maybe his brother might be going through some kind of withdrawal like he didn't already have enough to deal with.

"They made me sleep mostly, sometimes made me forget but…but not always. I don't remember the days unless she let…unless she let me drive." He couldn't meet Sam's eyes, he was too afraid of what he would see. He didn't even want to look at himself but how could he admit that even right now, he would willingly hold his arm out if Sam offered.

"Sounds like she gave you tranquilisers, there's a few different types in the kit. Rohypnol will clear your memory and some of the others I checked are antipsychotics, pretty heavy duty. I grabbed them when I got you out, in case…I just didn't know Dean."

"It's okay Sam, I get it. You did the right thing."

"Dean I'm sorry it took me so long to find you. I didn't know where to start when I got out and then I got close but not close enough. I'm sorry you...I wasn't gonna stop looking Dean. I need you to know that."

"What happened, what do you mean got out? Where were you?"

Sam realised too late that Dean had no knowledge of what happened to him but felt sick at the thought that his brother might have thought he wasn't coming for him.

"Hospital."

"How long?" Dean hadn't even thought about it.

"Sam how long?" Dean had somehow thought his brother had been looking the whole time.

"Um, maybe a few weeks."

Dean sank to his bed and let the information shift and settle with the other fragments of information in his mind. "What…what did she do to you?" Wanting desperately to know and not know.

"Don't remember a lot. She cut me a bit but they fixed me up." Sam wasn't about to try and capture those moments, they were better left gone.

"Let me see." Dean's voice was rough but it wasn't a question.

Sam hesitated. It wasn't going to do either of them any good and Dean was already on shaky ground. "Why?" He hadn't been tortured and used for seven weeks and her voice and her claws were a vague memory to him.

"Because I need to see what she did to you Sam. I want to see what took them weeks to fix when I wasn't there."

Dean looked at his little brother and waited patiently for Sam to lift the front of his shirt until the healing scars were there for Dean to see. They were deep and would've cut through flesh and muscle and God knew what else and he tried not to dwell on the image. He remembered holding Sam in the alley when the blood poured out on his hands and the white of a rib poked through the broken flesh. These would've bled more and Sam would've been lying on the floor in his own blood maybe choking on it as it bubbled in his lungs and there was no one there to help him. Save him.

"Dean? Dean?" He won't lose his brother again.

As he comes back to the present, he feels a surge of anger, resolve, revenge and then a calm clarity washes over him.

"We gonna find her Sam, and her mate…and nothing else matters until they're both dead."

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It was almost like nothing had changed.

Almost.

Sam will only let him drive for an hour at the most.

Sam sat in the passenger seat nursing several ancient looking books and looked tired and drawn. His own hands gripped the wheel like if he held on tight enough he wouldn't loose what was left of his mind. Things were almost back how they were meant to be or at least how they usually were, familiar ground.

Except for the images that sought him out when he wasn't ready, of blood on his hands and lust in his body and the feeling of want and repulsion that made his hands shake no matter how hard he held on. No matter how much he swallowed down the scream that tasted like burnt ash that left an aftertaste he knew he would always have with him.

"Dean?"

The soft voice beside him reminded him yet again that he had drifted off into the void. Somehow Sam could tell when it happened and he didn't know whether to be thankful for that or feel betrayed by a body that could no longer hide the pain.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"We should stop in the next town. You need to rest and eat."

Dean sighed, it was something Sam had become persistent about in the day they had been on the road since…since Sam had come for him. He only ate to make his brother feel better, he really had no stomach for it when everything tasted like copper. At least it would mean Sam would eat too and rest. As his awareness slowly returned, Dean had been disturbed by how thin his brother had become and how easily he seemed to tire, not that Sam gave in to that need.

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Dean lies back on another lumpy mattress like the thousands he has used before and closes his eyes. Sam orders take out cause even though it remains unspoken, neither of them wants to deal with a public place and they feel safer closed away with weapons nearby and loaded.

"How did she get through the salt Dean?"

It's one of the details they've been trying to figure out and he replies with the same shake of his head that he does to most of these questions. He either doesn't know or doesn't remember. He thinks maybe it was his fault.

"It doesn't matter, we know consecrated iron to the heart will kill them. I just have to find a way to break the link before…so it doesn't…I just have to find a way."

"It's okay Sam. I don't…this isn't your fault Sam and we'll do what we've gotta do…"

"I'll find a way Dean."

He looks away from the earnest eyes and the look that says just try and stop me because he doesn't really want to die but he knows that saving him from this isn't likely. Dean doesn't think his brother is up for a reality check right now so he says nothing and saves the heartbreak for another day.

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It hits him like a freight train and takes his breathe away even as he lurches for the bathroom and dry retches for what feels like hours until he wishes he could just reach down and rip his stomach out and be done with it.

His hand slips on the edge of the toilet and he sees the porcelain coming up to meet his forehead and all he can do is wince in anticipation and close his eyes waiting for the crack and hoping it will just knock him out but it doesn't happen. There are hands on him that stop his momentum then wrap around him and he feels like he's floating. Opening his eyes, Dean sees he is back in the room staring up at the ceiling until Sam's face comes into view and he feels the bed dip with his brother's weight.

"Dean, you need to drink this."

"No, can't."

"You can't get dehydrated okay. Just a sip."

"Can't."

"Please Dean."

"Jesus Sam."

He's too tired to keep going and he's glad when the cool liquid hits his raw throat, thinks maybe his brother knows what he's doing.

"Not too much."

"Make…your mind up." Dean manages a grin and sinks back on the pillow. There's a look that Sam's trying to hide, somewhere between panic and dread and he's pretty sure he knows why but doesn't exactly trust his instincts right now. "What Sam?"

He's glad when his brother doesn't pull any punches but then he may not be capable of that at the moment, maybe all he can manage is tell it like it is. "I think it's gonna get worse Dean. I don't know how often she…"

"Every day Sam. She drugged me every day."

"Then it's gonna get worse. If it gets too bad I can give you…"

"No. I don't want anymore okay. You promise me that no matter what happens, no matter what I say you won't give me any more of that shit okay?"

"Sam?"

"I'm not gonna promise but I'll try. That's the best you're gonna get Dean. I'll do my best."

He closed his eyes and nodded. How could he ask for more than that?

"Trust you Sam."

"I know."

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It was just before nine and he worked at the laptop with just one lamp on so Dean could rest. Neither boy had felt like dinner but he had made sure that Dean kept drinking water. After nearly two hours, his brother had finally drifted off.

Sam had been vigilant, waiting for it to happen and he was still surprised when it did. The pain seemed to hit his brother like a force of nature but instead of waking him it threw him into some kind of convulsion.

Sam hadn't been ready for this.

"Dean?" He moved from the table to his brother's bed in seconds and tried to make sure that Dean didn't hurt himself as he struggled and arched against the agony. Sam could do little more than hold him in place and watch as muscles knotted and limbs shook uncontrollably.

Eyelids finally fluttered after an eternity and the tremors seemed to lessen. He still held on, wasn't letting go.

"Sm?"

"Yeah Dean. I'm here."

"Jesus…"

"I know." He reached over and uncapped the water bottle before lifting Dean's head to take a sip, relieved when he met no resistance. 'Try and rest. I'll be here okay."

"'Kay Sam. I'll take second watch."

The muscles on his face hurt when he smiled and he figured he had just about forgotten how but Dean just did that. Made everything seem okay for a second even when things were fucked up beyond all recognition.

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Sam watches as Dean shifts restlessly again, one arm now flung out over the side of the bed. His eyes were growing heavy and he just about needed to punch something to vent his anger at not being able to find anything that would sever this link she held over his brother. He wondered what would happen if he just locked her away somewhere and got Dean the hell away, whether distance would weaken her power. Unfortunately the catch was whatever he tried, whatever he decided the plan would be, there was no way to tell whether it would work until it did.

Or didn't.

He would be playing with Dean's life. If he screwed this up, Dean was literally screwed.

No pressure.

"No!"

Sam jumped at the loudness.

"No. Run, get away. Go now."

"Hey it's okay now Dean. You're safe."

"Please. No, please, no."

Sam goes to place a hand on Dean's shoulder and feels heat radiating out even before he makes contact. "Shit." He quickly gets a couple of water cooled cloths from the bathroom and lays one on his brother's forehead the other across his neck.

Tries to ignore the sobbing pleas but can't quite manage to suppress his own torment as he wants Dean to forget this horror. He wants to know what happened to his brother but won't, can't ask him to say it out loud in case it's the final piece of pain that makes the wall crumble. He'll be there to help him through it, to pick him up, he'll put him together piece by piece if he has to but Sam doesn't think he could bear the burden of knowing he was the one that broke him in the end.

"Don't make me please. Wasn't his fault."

"Dean c'mon. It's over." Sam knows it's far from over as he sees the tears mingle with sweat as they fall down his brother's face.

"Blood. Too much blood."

"Dean wake up."

"God what have I done?"

Dean pants, almost hyperventilating and Sam is at a loss except to hold on. He moves to the small fridge quickly and throws some ice cubes in a plastic shopping bag, wrapping it in a tea towel and placing it under Dean's neck. His hands are shaking.

Another three hours and Sam is just about ready to think it won't end and knows he's heard too much and Dean's fear has seeped into his own heart cause there's only so much anguish and pleading you can hear when you can't do anything to stop it.

He nearly misses the silence and stillness as it's masked by his own ragged breathing.

When Dean suddenly sits up, inhaling like he hasn't taken a breath in days, eyes wide open and scared, Sam could feel his heart jump into his mouth.

"Dean? What is it, what's wrong?" He thinks irrationally that maybe Dean hasn't got the strength in him right now to list everything that's fucking wrong up till this point but then his brain snaps back to sanity when he feels the iron grip around his wrist.

"Sam…" Dean groans in pain and lists to the side before Sam steadies his descent. He's almost sobbing now and still fighting to speak. "She's…she's killing again Sam. Feel it, she's making me feel it. Please Sammy, oh God please stop it Sam. Can't, I can't do this."

He doesn't think about it, he'll work it out later but right now he knows there's no other way. Sam grabs the small medicine kit he retrieved when he found Dean and quickly checked the contents. He's halfway back across the room when his brother yells out, clutching his hand.

Ignoring the blood now pouring out from Dean's palm, Sam quickly half fills a syringe and compresses the plunger a little to void any air bubbles. He doesn't hesitate or second guess before injecting it into Dean's arm, doesn't speak or rationalise or do any of the things he would normally do cause this is far from normal and he can't forgive himself for doing this.

Couldn't live with himself if he didn't.

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Dean loses consciousness within seconds of the drug entering his system. Sam had picked one of the lesser potent but faster acting Benzodiazepines, glad he'd done the research more to know the side effects, never thinking he'd be using them to drug his own brother.

He let out a shaky breath, again feeling like he was barely keeping his head above water. This was not something he could draw from experience or look up in some book or even ask someone that might have a clue. Yeah, by the way my brother's infected with some demon blood so any suggestions on how to save him before we kill the demon that's still killing innocent people? He knew even Dean would say that he's an acceptable casualty. Expendable.

Sam didn't think that even Bobby could let the demon keep killing innocents while he looked for something he wasn't even sure existed.

He rubbed a hand over his stubbled face and through his hair and picked his brother's hand up to tend to the injury she had somehow inflicted. Sharing her pain.

He wiped the blood off Dean's hand and down his wrist, from the amount and deep red colour the cut would need stitches. Sam was sure about that, having tended to enough cuts and slashes in his lifetime to pretty much categorise the severity on sight. Except there was nothing there but a thin red line underneath the gore which couldn't be possible unless…unless…he wouldn't allow himself to consider the possibility until he could think in a straight line.

Still holding Dean's hand he checked all over to make sure he hadn't missed a freaking large gash somewhere that could explain all the blood. Okay. Dean wasn't bleeding from anywhere else he could find either so it wasn't transferred from another wound. Okay. Okay.

Sam had to keep busy, straight line thinking. He checked his brother's pulse and noticed his temperature seemed to have dropped as well so he removed the cloths and icepack and rechecked the other injuries. He hesitated when he saw the blood stained gauze sticking up over Dean's hip but he wasn't gonna let infection set in because of his brother's misguided shame and his own weakness.

He removed the jeans, which Dean had stubbornly refused to remove even when he slept, and understood in some way why his brother had wanted to hide. Dean would think these marks would mean something different to anyone who saw them but Sam knew differently, knew this had been done to his brother against his will.

He cleaned the savage bite marks that covered both hips and below down to Dean's thighs, placing antiseptic cream and a clean dressing on the worst of them. There was nothing he could do for the bruises except wonder how on earth Dean had managed to move and drive without being in absolute agony.

He knew the answer, knew the bitter truth and he notched up another mark on his tally sheet for letting his brother down. He wondered sometimes why Dean didn't call him on it but knew deep down he probably didn't even notice. Dean didn't exactly value himself the way Sam valued him.

Sam knew he couldn't do this without Dean. Couldn't, didn't want to. Wouldn't.

He sat down at the laptop, finally satisfied that his brother was comfortable for the moment. Sam allowed himself to hope as a plan started forming in his head. The drugs had to be the answer, or at least part of it. He had searched the herbs used for cleansing and blocking, there was a purification ritual that might help but the drugs might…had to, stop her transferring her pain. Her death.

They had to.

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He thought it must have been the most vivid nightmare he's ever had, and he's had some over the years. It was strange though to wake up feeling as calm as he was, almost detached, and while it seemed odd he couldn't be bothered digging too deep.

Sometimes you just gotta get on with it and ride the gift horse.

Except then you wake up for real and fuck you're living the nightmare all over.

Good times.

"Sam?" He panics for a second and thinks maybe he dreamt that bit too where Sam came for him and he doesn't think he could deal with that. Knows that would be the end of him then.

"Sammy?"

The bathroom door is wrenched open and his brother is by his side and he can breathe.

Just.

"It's okay. Just take it easy alright. It's gonna be okay."

He can't think what to say cause Sam is smiling at him. Just fucking smiling like everything is okay and really fucking okay. He reckons Sam reads the question on his face anyway. Sam does that sometimes.

"I think I've worked it out Dean. I know what to do. You're gonna be okay."

He nods and he really wants to know but then notices he's lying under the sheet with just his boxers on and the shame takes precedence over his salvation and he pushes past his brother and staggers to take Sam's place in the bathroom and manages to close the door. Doesn't know if he wants to throw up or cry or scream or just punch his fist through the wall.

Option number four is the winner and he hits the dry wall twice, cracking the surface nicely before he finds his arm pinned in midair poised for a third strike.

Everything crumbles, mind and body fatally abort and all he knows is he might be yelling and his fists are connecting with something that doesn't hurt as much as the wall and he feels the room spin as the effects of gravity take over. He just goes with it, just lets himself fall and hopes he's close enough to the edge so he will fall into the void cause this is just too hard.

Something catches him and lowers him to the ground.

Dean opens his eyes thinking belatedly that this is how it all started before and maybe he's on some loop. Except this time it's different. This time something makes him try to capture a piece of reality and hold onto it.

He thinks maybe Sam needs him to stay. Sometimes that's all it takes.

"Sammy." He's not asking this time but telling his brother that he's there. Somewhere in the middle Sam's smile was lost and replaced by fear and eyes that couldn't possibly hold that much pain.

"What's wrong…I don't know? I don't know what's wrong Dean? Does it hurt, can you still feel her? Please, I don't know what to do?" Then in a raw voice, "I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do."

He thinks he may have broken something in his hand but somehow that doesn't rate a mention. He's not sure where to start so focuses on his brother but his mind has other ideas as it slowly begins to unravel, his guilt and fear becoming an almost toxic combination.

"M'okay. I just…thought you hadn't come. I woke up and thought I was still…with her and…" He shook his head, not going there. "Didn't want you to see what…what I…the marks on me. Sammy I should've fought harder…I didn't want…I didn't want this…didn't want you to know. I helped her Sam. I helped her kill and …and the boy…m'sorry. God I'm so sorry."

"Dean, God Dean I know okay. You couldn't have stopped it but this is me okay, you don't have to explain that to me. I know you didn't want this to happen. This is me. And its okay, it's gonna be okay. You just need to hold on. Please."

"Trying, I'm…I'm trying Sam."

_tbc…_


	4. Chapter 4

**What doesn't kill you…**

…**sometimes makes you wish it had.**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural.

_a/n: little steps…_

_lb._

**Chapter 4**

Sam sits a little straighter in the seat to ease the dull ache in his chest after nearly three hours of driving. It's nearly midday and his mouth is dry and his eyes are creased in the corners from the struggle to keep open. He doesn't think he's slept for more then four hours in the past forty eight.

Dean sleeps beside him. Arms folded across his chest and shoulder resting on the passenger door. The way is head is tilted, Sam can see the fading handprints on his neck.

Dean argued about driving but Sam insisted he's up for it even if he isn't. They aren't sure how Dean's body is going to react now so it's for the best he thinks. The memory of pushing the needle into his brother's arm surfaces for a second and he hates they have been reduced to this just to get through the night.

His phone rings and Sam pulls over onto the shoulder, too tired to manage answering his phone and driving at the same time.

"Ash." He can't help the monotone of his voice because it's either nothing or everything right now and he's just too drained. If Ash notices he doesn't say anything and Sam is thankful for that at least.

"Sam my man I have something for you. It's like these demons are in some kind of holding pattern or they just realised their map's been upside down and turned around."

"What d'you mean? I thought they were heading for Fresno. We're nearly there."

"Yeah see that's the kicker. They got to Fresno and headed back inland towards Yosemite. They're not gonna find a whole lot of folks there this time of year dude. Y'know with the snowfall and all, a lot of the roads are gonna be closing soon."

"Ash, the state forests are still open during winter."

"Yeah man but only the main roads are accessible, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The road cams are a little sparse in that neck of the woods as well so you're gonna be on your own from here on in if they don't change course again."

"Thanks man." Sam ends the call as a set of deep, chest splitting coughs overtake him. He waits until he can breathe without the searing pain before he pulls back out onto the road. There isn't time for this he thinks, silently cursing his body for not healing like it should when he needs it to work.

Sam knows he has to stop soon, has to get some sleep before dark, before the horror begins again. Before the ache in his lungs becomes overwhelming and he can't hide it but he doesn't want to wake Dean so he keeps going.

Dean sleeps in the car, really sleeps as though the nightmares can't catch him or touch him as long as Sam's foot is pressed hard on the accelerator. Sam can't deny him that after all he's been through.

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There's a pain in his shoulder that he can't ignore and he realises when he shifts that it's not just his shoulder but his whole body that has to move. He knows before he opens his eyes that he's in the Impala, safe with Sam. Knows that without even trying.

He turns his head, stretching his back before glancing across the seat, surprised his brother hasn't spoken then alarmed by the tremors that shake through Sam's arms as he watches. He waits, looks for some reaction but his brother's face remains still as he stares through the windscreen like nothing else exists except the road in front of him.

Dean recognises the look that screams of exhaustion and hurt and worry and I can't do this anymore but I know I've got to. He knows it well, may have even invented it but it wasn't supposed to be etched on his brother's face like it had been there all his life. It wasn't supposed to be there at all.

"Sam?"

His brother blinks and licks his lips before turning to glance his way. "Hey."

Dean hears the rasp in that one word and glances at his watch, taking a few seconds to comprehend what it means. "Jesus Sam it's nearly three, you've gotta stop." Dean does the math as they pass a road sign. "You're way past Fresno man."

He watches as Sam frowns as though he's speaking pig Latin and he needs a few minutes to decipher it, untangle the words.

"Sammy, pull over. I'll find a motel, just pull over."

Dean speaks softly, thinking his brother just needs it. Nothing too harsh or demanding and he's relieved when Sam turns the wheel and steers off the road coming to a stop and just sitting there waiting.

Waiting for something.

They just sit there in silence, letting it surround them. Dean waits a few minutes before putting a hand on Sam's arm, still stretched out and anchored to the wheel. His brother's eyes are back on the road again and Dean suddenly needs him here.

He gets out of the car, body stiff and sore from injuries and hours of nothing, and moves around to open the driver's door. He doesn't wait for an acknowledgement, thinks Sam is beyond it at this point, and just grips his brother's arm and pulls him from the car and walks him around to the other side.

Sam is compliant until they reach the passenger door and then he just grabs Dean's arms and holds on like he's falling. Holds on hard enough to hurt but Dean gets it, knows Sam has to hold on to let go a little.

He holds his little brother who is inches taller and larger than life in his eyes, holds him like he did when they were kids and Sammy was small enough to fold in under Dean's chin and still young enough, innocent enough to feel safe there.

Dean holds on until Sam lets go.

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He watches as Sam sits down on the end of a bed and leans his head into his hands. Dean hadn't driven far down the highway before he had pulled off on an exit and booked into a motel.

"Get some sleep Sam. We're not gonna be any use if we can't think straight. I'm just gonna put some salt lines down." Knows if she was close enough the salt would be useless, he'd open the door and welcome her in if that's want she told him to do. Old habits die hard and he pours the salt anyway and pretends it makes him feel better. Maybe it does.

It crosses his mind, not for the first time, that Sam would be safer away from him.

Sam looks over at him, eyes barely open, and nods then speaks as though it's taking every ounce of strength. "Ash Rang. They…they're heading towards Yosemite Dean. I think they're going to ground for the Winter. We need to work out where…"

"It's okay Sam, we'll work it out. Right now we need to get some rest. You need to get some rest."

"This is how...she was here when I woke up last time. It started like this and she took you..."

His brother's barely audible words mirrored Dean's own thoughts but this time he would be prepared for her if she came, this time things would end differently. "Its not gonna happen again Sam, it's not. I slept in the car so I'm good for a while. Go to sleep."

Again Dean watches as Sam nods without any argument, a distinct lack of co-ordination showing through with even this small function. He doesn't think he's ever seen his brother this exhausted and he's more than a little worried.

Dean puts his knife under the pillow and a rifle within reach and sinks back on the bed, discarding his jacket and overshirt and kicking his boots and socks off. He pushes himself back until he rests against the headboard, his mind sorting and sifting though the past few months and he can't turn it off. He wants desperately to focus on what they need to do, the best plan of attack but he just can't escape as though she has tainted every part of him with her bloodied existence.

He can't ever forget the things he did. A part of him knows he shouldn't be allowed to either.

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It's nearly six now and he sits in the darkened room and leaves the lights off so Sam doesn't wake but he can't sit still any longer, can't stop his hands shaking. He wonders if the anticipation is worse than the reality even when he knows its not, even when he knows it's partly his body wanting its fix. Although mostly he feels sick knowing she'll probably start soon and he'll have more blood on his soul if not his hands.

His skin feels too tight and he can't help pacing, seven steps is the most he can take before having to turn around and start again. Trying to focus on the facts helps him a little, deflecting his thoughts from the physical reality of what he's going through, what he knows has to get worse before it gets better.

She could only control him when she was close enough which must be why she used the drugs on him as well. Her touch gave her absolute control and the overwhelming feeling of giving in to that…power, still echoed in his body enough to make him shudder. There were still a lot of gaps he couldn't fill in, times where he had been rendered incapable of thinking and times where he had willingly gone away.

The only thing that made sense was that somehow she must have been looking after her mate the whole time. Since he had no recollection of another Skraben, she must have tended to it during her long daylight absences. The Skraben were nocturnal feeders but he knew for a fact they still functioned all too well during the day.

Something was niggling his thoughts, a piece of information just out of reach and then his hand clutched the worn journal from the table as he passes, not faltering in his stride. The weathered leather in his hands makes his breath catch for a second as both comfort and heartache pound in his veins. He just holds it as he walks, feels the strength flow from it pages as though the written words from his father seep through his skin.

He reads haltingly as he moves, the words drifting in and out of focus but still anchoring him to the task at hand. He stops twice to retrieve first the holy water then the spare rounds from his duffel as his fingers hold the place of several pages as he cross checks information, occasionally cursing the sometimes almost illegible print.

It would have been easy to give in and cry out as his knees buckled and crashed into the worn carpet as his near clarity was ripped and torn to shreds. A strangled groan escaped him as want and need and bloodlust suddenly suffused his senses.

_Can you feel it Dean? Can you taste how good it is? You remember don't you?"_

He has to fight this, not lose control. He manages to scramble to his feet and stagger to the bed, hand blindly searching until he feels the cool handle fit his palm. Not sure of anything except fighting this, Dean pours holy water on the knife and pushes the blade into the first bite mark she made, his body both too strung out and too numb to register the initial dull, slow ache of the knife in the healed scar.

The knife falls unnoticed to the floor and bounces onto the small wet area leaving a bloody splatter on the dirty green linoleum as he fingers clumsily close around a consecrated iron round.

"Dean? Dean what's going on?"

"Jesus!"

He's aware of his brother moving towards him but he has to try and fight this time. He has to make a stand and he knows Sam won't be able to see past the blood and the knife and he understands that but he still can't let it stop him now.

"Let me finish this." The words come out of his mouth in a raw voice that he barely recognises as his own and he doesn't think for a second what the words mean to Sam as it takes all he's got just to spit this much out.

He pushes the bullet into the bloodied gouge in his shoulder, pushes it in as far as he can before the world tilts and he's looking at his brother's bare feet and trying to comprehend the pain in his body and the screaming in his head.

There's a few precious seconds of silence and he sees Sam's face up close and mouth moving but his eyes just follow the tracks of a tear running down his brother's face and he has to let him know its okay but he doesn't get past the first syllable.

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"Talk to me Sam."

He takes a minute to convince himself that this can't be happening… but then he can't look away from the blood soaked towel in his hands and the red stain on his fingers where Dean's blood had discoloured his skin as he tried to stop it spilling out. He takes another minute because he doesn't trust his own instincts which he knows now must be shot to hell for him to check out like he did and let Dean do this to himself. How the fuck could he fall asleep and not even remember?

When he finally spoke it was low and quiet and the back of one wrist pushed ineffectively on his ribcage against the dull pounding that kept time with his heartbeat. "Let me take ithe bullet out Dean. Please."

"It hurt her Sammy, I know it did. It worked…" Dean moved the clean towel a little to check the flow of blood.

"It hurt you too Dean and I think it only worked cause you passed out. At least the drugs…"

"The drugs are screwing with me too much Sam, I can't keep taking them. I have to fight her, please don't stop me fighting her. I can't give her anymore, I can't let her do this anymore without trying to fight. Please."

He nods his head and hates himself for giving in to this but he can't let Dean stop fighting. The consequences of Dean giving up were all too real as he remembered how his brother had clutched the knife yesterday with a different intent. Dean would recover from this with another scar and it wasn't like Sam had never had his brother's blood on his hands before.

Not by a long shot.

"Let me clean it up a bit for now but if it starts looking any worse I'm taking the bullet out okay. You can't leave it in for too long."

Sam watches as his brother removes the towel from his shoulder, sees the blood well back up through the wound. He searches through the first aid supplies still feeling drained as though he hadn't just slept for hours.

"You should've woken me."

"It happened too quick Sam and I'm guessing you might not have agreed. I remembered something about disrupting blood links and there's an entry in the journal about using iron, silver…"

"…or dead man's blood." Sam finished. "Yeah I remember, they're used to try and break blood sacrifices and rituals but we don't know for sure if…"

"We're not gonna know Sam until we try it. Look there's no guarantees here but I can't just let…I have to try something and this is all I got."

Sam nods and swallows and he has to get out of this room and back on the road so he can breathe. Keep moving.

"Ash thinks they're going to ground and there's more snow forecast. We probably should keep moving if you're up for it." Hates himself for suggesting this but it has to finish, he can't watch this happening to his brother for much longer.

Doesn't think Dean can do this for much longer.

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They drive for an hour each and then stop on the pretence of eating but both just need the caffeine. Neither can stomach food, each for their own reasons.

Dean pays for the gas then follows Sam to the restroom. Finds his brother gripping the sink and his chest and coughing like he's ripping his lungs apart. Dean thinks he's been like this for a while judging from the sweat and desperate gasping breaths.

He puts a hand on Sam's shoulder and back, and feels his brother jump at the contact.

"Hey take it easy. Breathe Sam".

It takes another few minutes before Sam gets it under control and he splashes cold water on his face and walks out, eyes down. Dean sees the way he still holds his chest.

Dean walks to the driver's side that his brother already occupies. "You're not driving. Not after that man, you're sick aren't you?"

"My turn. We agreed on this so don't start."

"Sam…"

I'm fine. It's just a cough Dean and it's getting late and..and it might start again."

Dean stares at the ground wondering if Sam means the shakes or the killing but doesn't think either of them really want that conversation right now so he nods and walks. How the fuck can he argue logic.

Sam starts the car, hand on the stick, "Dean I didn't mean…I'm not trying to use it against you. I just…"

"I know Sam."

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Dean thinks he has it under control when it starts and just grips the seat with his hands feeling the bullet in his flesh as his arm muscles tense. Its different this time like she's trying to crawl in under his skin, takes her time likes she's playing some sick game before she makes herself known.

_You need to come back to me now Dean. Back to the earth with me._

_It's time._

"Gonna kill you." He closes his eyes and knows she can't hear him but it's a promise he's already made ten times over.

_There's a present along the way. A little something for hurting me_.

"No."

_I'm closer than you think Dean. So close I'm in your skin. So close I can make you open the door_.

"No."

Her voice continues and he panics as he feels his hand slide along the door and grasp the handle. She can't do this, there's no way she can do this even as he feels the cold air rushing in, taking his breath.

"DEAN!"

The fire down his arm makes him respond and he's aware of the car slowing down as Sam pulls over onto the dirt, one hand on the wheel the other painfully digging into Dean's damaged shoulder.

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"How do you know?" Sam trusts his brother but he's still getting a handle on the fact that Dean's at risk of going under her spell again. He shudders at the thought of Dean hitting the road out of a moving vehicle doing ninety.

"She was pretty clear Sam. Just keep going, it's only another few miles." He can see his brother is freaked but he can't talk about this, not without saying too much out loud that he doesn't want to hear because that just makes it more real.

"Yeah I know but…Dean you know it's gotta be a trap."

Dean knows exactly what it is and it's no trap. Just his punishment.

"Sam, I just know okay. We need to hurry in case…in case we can still…" He needs to think that maybe there's a chance they can save someone. Needs to believe in something.

Sam says they should go in prepared anyway and he has to get the drugs ready but Dean won't hear it. Says there's too much at stake and they can't waste time.

Sam's pissed off that Dean tries so hard to save everyone but himself, only Sam keeps his mouth shut because this is what they do. This is what Dean does and he loves him and hates him for it.

_tbc…_


	5. Chapter 5

**What doesn't kill you…**

…**sometimes makes you wish it had.**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural.

_a/n: I'm so sorry I haven't replied to any reviews for Chapter 4 – I can tell you though that your comments have been appreciated so very much._

_I think the story is still on a downward spiral (sorry Maz101) but things just are what they are – and I haven't got it in me right now to argue with the muse!_

_lb._

**Chapter 5**

Sam dry heaves against the sleeve of his jacket, willing himself to swallow and trying to breathe through his mouth at the same time. The stench is so nauseating he can taste it and they've only been in there a couple of minutes but he thinks his brother's seen enough, too much, as he drags Dean back out the door.

He knows he has to go back in because there's writing on the wall and there might be God knows what else left behind in the bloody mess but he has to get Dean out and away first. He feels the first tremors shake his brother's body and he nearly falls over him as Dean just drops to his hands and knees and vomits in the gutter outside the motel room.

Sam hauls him to his feet as soon as he finishes, the need to distance Dean from this nightmare more important than being civil. He watches as Dean stares at the blood on his hands and knows whatever progress his brother has made to deal with this fucking twisted reality has been at least halved. And that was still best case scenario.

They reach the Impala parked half a block down and after a moment's hesitation, he helps Dean into the passenger seat. He might have more room to stretch out in the back but Sam won't be able to see him there when he drives and that's just not an option right now.

Sam is panting as he opens the trunk and gets out a blanket, hip flask and a couple of water bottles. He can feel a rattle in his chest on every inhale.

Dean doesn't move as Sam wraps a blanket over him, making sure to cover his hands.

"I'll be right back okay. No more than five minutes and I'll be back." Sam opens the hip flask and pours whiskey into a handkerchief then takes a swig before replacing the cap. He closes the car door and runs back towards the horror, tying the moist cotton across his mouth and nose before opening the door and walking in.

Jesus, he knew what he was walking back into and he's seen so much death but this was…this was fucking evil. What was left of the body on the bed, Sam's pretty sure it was a girl, had still been warm when he'd moved his brother's hands. The eyes had been open and Dean, he couldn't leave them like that.

He grabbed the note book and pen from his jacket and started copying the red scrawl that marked one wall. Dark red trails marked the end of some of the letters where the blood had taken longer to congeal.

The other body lay in pieces on the floor and had been dead a while based on the smell, the green skin colour and the maggots crawling over the rotting flesh. It wasn't rocket science.

Sam stepped gingerly around the room heading back towards the exit as the saliva built up in his mouth, his body again reaching its viewing limit of the slaughter.

He silently runs past the few cars in the lot, thankful no one crosses his path. He can see his breath in the frigid air and realises too late it's probably the reason why the pain in his lungs is making itself known again.

Sam isn't sure whether he's more relieved or worried to find Dean still sitting where he left him. Still conscious but probably not coherent although Sam doesn't think he'll test that out right now. He thinks maybe if he has to speak he's going to cough a lung up so he concentrates on trying to slow his breathing.

He keys the ignition and drives, the only sound in the car is the harsh grating sound as he breathes. Dean is still and silent next to him and Sam knows now he's not really there. Dean has found someplace away from this and Sam lets him stay there for the time being.

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As soon as he smells the rot he knows what this is, probably knew before but he needed something to cling to. He follows Sam in the door and sees the mangled body, bodies…can't quite tell just yet.

The one on the bed has been gutted, entrails spilling across the floral quilt cover and over onto the steel blue carpet. Her hair had been short and blonde before…she's only wearing one earring. It's a gold heart with blood flecks on it.

He uses his thumb and wipes the blood from the earring. Her skin is so soft and still warm. Warm enough to still be alive. Except she isn't and he knows this much.

Her eyes are the palest blue and opened so wide like she's surprised and Dean wonders what she looked like when she was happy. He thinks she would have been beautiful when she smiled but it's too hard to tell now because her face has been sliced and diced and her mouth is in ruins.

Because of him.

Because he tried to save himself.

He makes himself look at every cut and bite mark on her pale skin and knows how each and every torture has been inflicted. Makes himself remember every detail for her and for the others because he shouldn't be allowed to escape from this, not when he should have stopped it.

He closes her eyes gently, his hands lingering over her face as he tears open his soul and lets the darkness in. Willingly remembers everything.

Dean had already gone when his brother led him out of the room.

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He knows he's losing it which is ironic really because he thinks maybe his brother has already lost it.

He should've tried to get through sooner, should never have left him this long.

Sam paces the room until another coughing fit makes him double over and he staggers to the spare bed, arms wrapped around his torso and fire erupting inside. Gasping when its over, body curled up and exhausted. Doesn't think he can keep doing this, not on his own.

Maybe not at all.

His brother's gone and he can't seem to get him back and Sam isn't quite sure how he could have let that happen.

He gets up and sits on the other bed where Dean lies unmoving, barely breathing. Just staring at his hands like he can still see the blood even though Sam washed it all off.

He had pulled the car over after half an hour and tried to get through, break down whatever defences Dean had set up but he couldn't make any impact. He checked into a motel but still hasn't got a response after nearly an hour of talking to himself.

"Dean I need you here. I know this is hard, Jesus I think it's the hardest fucking thing we've had to do but you can't just check out. You don't get to do that okay."

"Dean?"

"You don't get to fucking do that."

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Sam stares at the words on the screen, strictly translated the first of three parts of a rite to preserve the essence of the dead. Sam is having trouble with the concept until he realises his translation it too literal and it refers to the death of sleep.

He glances at Dean before he continues, changing words every now and again and squinting in concentration. The spell is old, ancient and written in well and truly dead Latin, not the version out of some textbook. He's a little out of practice but still manages to decipher enough to learn the Skrabens will need to make two more sacrifices to survive their hibernation. The demons knew their bloody message would be found, and knew with obvious certainty the invitation would not be refused.

The other numbers and letters are co-ordinates. Sam knows where they have to go at least.

He knows where the hunt is going to end.

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The wound looks angry and there are lines of red radiating out from the open flesh. The bullet's gotta come out and he's not waiting to ask permission. If Dean doesn't like it he can open his mouth and fucking say so.

He coughs sharply turning his head and grimacing before he braces his brother's shoulder with one hand. Sam waits a few seconds until his hand stops shaking and inserts the sterilised tweezers, hesitating when Dean flinches and inhales sharply.

"Dean? Hey man I'm sorry but I've go to do this before it gets worse. I think it's infected."

The bullet is in deeper than he thought possible and it's hard to grasp. He stops to mop up the blood streaming from the wound so he can continue and then Dean suddenly grips his wrist and startled green eyes are looking at him.

Sam slowly removes Dean's hand and puts the tweezers down, needing to latch on to this small sign that Dean might be back.

"Dean can you hear me?" Sam speaks softy and watches as his brother's eyes look away.

"Dean its okay, I just…I just need to know. Please man."

Sam is overwhelmed by the small nod of his brother's head and can hardly breathe let alone speak for minutes as he feels like he's been given a reprieve. Another chance to set things right.

When he finally picks up the tweezers he gently places his hand on Dean's shoulder again. "You don't need to talk, I just need you to stay that's all." Sam keeps talking as he works and although he gets no verbal response its okay because he knows Dean is there with him.

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"They've been travelling around to feed and they keep moving so there's less chance of the murders being linked. The news reports I've been able to find aren't clear on the assailant but I'm pretty sure they're taking turns grabbing victims to muddy the waters even more. The last…victim, was used for the spell they work to preserve themselves when they hibernate. They might not resurface for a coupla years so it must be pretty powerful I guess."

Sam speaks carefully, trying to keep the details impersonal, just another job. He knows it's not but he needs his brother to work through this and he doesn't know any other way.

He thinks if he stops talking maybe Dean will slip away again.

"They know we're gonna follow them and they need us so they can finish their ritual. I get we have to do this or they'll just find someone else but as long as we go in smart Dean we can do this…but you've gotta trust me. I think I've found a way to use the entry in Dad's journal, maybe stop the mind control from their touch. We kill the male first and then drug her but then you've gotta let me drug you Dean. I think we need to…change the rules…make them…"

He had felt it coming on and tried to breathe through it but the fast talking and the stress and maybe the fact that he was getting worse finally won out. He broke out in an instant sweat as the first cough broke from his lips and he felt the panic claw its way up his throat as he fought for oxygen around the pain. He automatically folded his body in on itself to stave off the wracking spasms but there was little else he could do but ride it out.

When it was over, a shiver crossed his body as his sweat cooled and trickled over his still clammy skin. Sam felt too tired to move or care until his brain caught up with his surroundings.

"S'okay Sammy. Just breathe I've got you."

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It hurts.

He thinks there must have been a time when it wasn't this hard, when he knew what to do, how to fix things. He can't remember a time when he didn't feel like he was being crushed by a relentless force that raged against him until he had no fight left.

He has nothing left now except the pain of remembering what he did. The ache in his heart defines him and shapes him and clouds his thoughts so much, there is nothing else.

And it hurts.

And then Sam is there again reaching out and he knows where he is but it's still too hard. It hurts too much to come back but then he knows that there's something wrong and he should know what to do because he's done it all his life. It's his job.

And then it hurts more when he sees his brother in pain and he knows he should've done something about it sooner but he didn't. He didn't do his job.

He sits up and places a hand on the back of his brother's head. Sam is bent in half on the bedside chair, his forehead resting next to Dean's pillow with one clenched fist beside his face. Dean suddenly knows that Sam can't be a part of this hunt anymore, not hurting like this and not when he can't trust himself to look out for his brother.

Dean knows what he has to do as he quietly gets up. He wonders a little, why he feels so numb and detached, like he knows he should feel more as he listens to Sam's ragged breathing next to him. He should feel more than this but maybe it's for the best.

He thinks maybe he doesn't want to feel anything ever again.

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"S'okay Sammy. Just breathe I've got you."

"S'okay, I'm gonna fix things."

"Dean?" Sam winces as the word hurts and he lifts his head, relief spreading through him at the sound of his brother's voice. He realises he must have passed out for a few minutes.

"Take it easy."

"Yeah. God, I thought you…are you alright?" Sam's voice is weary and rough as he pushes himself upright in the chair, arms folding across his body and head down. "I didn't know what to do."

"You're sick Sam. I didn't know you were so sick or I wouldn't have…" Dean shakes his head, either not willing or able to complete the sentence.

"It's just a cough, I'm fine. Nothing I can't deal with okay."

Sam frowns as he watches Dean shake his head. "No Sam. You need to stop and look after yourself, you can't keep going…not after the injuries you've had."

"No, you're right Dean I can't keep going like this. I can't watch what this is doing to you anymore and the only way to put an end to it is to finish this hunt. Jesus, I'm you're brother Dean I'm not walking away. You gotta know I wouldn't do that."

Sam is breathing hard but his chest aches for a different reason now and he thinks maybe Dean isn't all back with him yet because he should know this. He should know that Sam wouldn't leave him to deal with this alone.

"Yeah Sam, I know."

Sam is relieved when Dean reaches out and places a hand on his arm, his head is down and for a minute Sam thinks his brother is crying.

"And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Sammy."

"What for…?" Sam stops as he feels the needle slide into his upper arm. "Dean? Dean what're you doing?"

"Sshh Sammy. It's okay, I'm gonna fix everything."

Sam feels the warmth travel through his body as he sags in the chair, listing to the side until Dean moves him forward onto the bed. He panics as the full force of Dean's decision hits him and he knows he's helpless and Dean will be alone with no back up. "No, no…don't do…this."

Sam manages to grasp the front of his brother's shirt but his fingers won't hold on and he stares into green eyes that won't look at him. "Pls Dean…don't…no…not alone…"

Dean roughly wipes at his face as he watches Sam's eyes close. His brother looks so young and he can remember when Sam used to laugh and smile and look at him like he was some kind of hero.

He knows that was a lifetime ago and he'll never get that back. He probably didn't even deserve to have it in the first place.

After everything he's done now, after this…he doesn't deserve anything.

_tbc…_


	6. Chapter 6

**What doesn't kill you…**

…**sometimes makes you wish it had.**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural.

_Like hell, we are anxiously waiting_

_Like hell burning silently strong_

_Somehow we fell down by the wayside_

_And somehow this hell is home._

_Right now, this hell is my home._

"_Burn"_

_By Alkaline Trio_

**Chapter 6**

He's surprised how easy he thumbed a ride to start with in the early hours of the morning. Sarah, the girl who had picked him up had been nice. Too normal and nice with her smile and her laughter and when he felt the tremors starting he didn't want to freak her out. He didn't want to scare her any more than he had when she placed a hand on his leg and he nearly jumped out of the moving car because he couldn't breathe.

He doesn't like to be touched any more.

The girl was more concerned than she had any right to be – thought he was in trouble, needed help. Dean wondered what she'd think if she knew she was sitting next to a killer.

The car he hot wired in the next town was small and dirty and smelled of stale smoke but it did the job. It meant he didn't have to talk and lie and pretend to be normal. Sarah's laughter echoed in his head and it only reminded him of something he would never have - there wasn't a name for it, just a dark space where it should have been.

He rummaged in his jacket, one hand gripping the wheel as he found the map he had marked before he left, the piece of notepad his brother had written the co-ordinates on, folded within.

Dean is blindsided for a second as the image of Sam fighting against the effects of the drugs assaults him but he switches it off – can't let his emotions get the better of him. He knows this is the only way he can protect Sam and get the job done and that's all that really matters.

The love and fear and betrayal that poured from Sam's closing eyes still burns him like acid but that bridge has been burnt and they're on separate sides now. Even if he had any doubts, it was too late to go back.

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It was twenty five minutes past Placerville, inside the National Forest and a few miles past the Jaybird Canyon turnoff when they hit. Literally.

The road was already snow lined and even icy in some parts but Dean wasn't slowing down. He needed to get there and get this done before Sam came along. He didn't even notice the black four wheel drive until it filled his rear view mirror and kept on coming. There was no reaction time, no evasive manoeuvres just a sickening crunch and lurch as his vehicle hit the snowdrift and dropped off the steep shoulder of the road until its progress was halted by a stand of pines.

Pain ripped through Dean's hands and shoulders as they were jarred from the force of trying to regain control of the vehicle – then his head hit the wheel.

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The sharp sting across his face coincided with the way his head snapped back. Before he regained the presence of mind to open his eyes another hit to his face made his head turn the other way and he cried out this time as his forehead connected with something hard and unyielding.

"He was supposed to be with you. Your brother will be a part of this because we can't afford to leave him behind." Soft breath in his ear, "I think he may feel a little vindictive."

Dean felt her fingers tighten painfully in his hair before almost tenderly sliding down his face and tracing his lips. She sounded angry and his gut clenched. He remembered what happened when she was angry.

Suddenly there were other hands on him pulling him from the car, pushing and dragging him up the snow covered slope as he tries to get his legs steady beneath him. When they reach the top, he's slammed into the black metal of the vehicle and slides down the smooth surface until he sits on the icy ground. Head still spinning, he watches drops of red mar the white snow and tries to focus on the conversation next to him.

"Find the brother, we can't afford to leave loose ends this time. He knows too much about us."

"We still have a little time although the snow has begun. The hunter has the coordinates and he won't abandon his family. Don't worry, I will bring him back before the earth closes. "

"I hope you're right. I did not think they would separate but no matter, we have the girl to finish the sacrifice if we need. It would just be more poetic with the boy, more delicious to make them watch each other slowly die."

"Go ahead and start preparing and I will do my best for you. I will meet you in the ground soon lover, with or without the other one."

Dean slowly, carefully stands. He squints against the blur and steadies himself, leaning a hip against the rear door of the four wheel drive as her mate walks towards him and pushes him back. The seam of the door digs into his shoulder blade as a hand wraps around his neck. Dean tries to steady his breathing to speak as he feels fingers trace up along his thigh and warm breath on his ear.

"Sam won't be there, you'll have to make do with me. And if I don't kill you in time, he'll kill you when you wake." Sounds confident because he can't stomach any other outcomes.

"I am going to find your little brother Dean and everything that happens to him is your fault."

His body tenses as he prepares to strike, hate and anger fuelling a spike of adrenaline as he reacts to the threat against Sam. He has to stop them looking for his brother.

Dean finds himself lowering his arms and groans as the hand grips his throat tighter and he is aware that he is losing himself, falling fast. He closes his eyes as lips press against his, inhaling sharply as teeth sink into his skin drawing blood as words whisper in his head..

_Nothing you can do._

Dean sways as the contact is broken, there is something trying to claw through the fog that now permeates his mind and he can feel it so close to the surface. He knows it's something he has to remember but he loses it in a heartbeat.

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"Keep moving, don't stop. You need to keep moving or she'll get angry and make…she'll make me hurt you."

Dean pulls the girl along gripping her wrist and elbow, knowing he's hurting her but this is better than what will happen if he doesn't. It's his fault Sarah's here, his responsibility.

"Why are you doing this? Oh God, please don't hurt me please. I promise I won't say anything if you let me go, please."

_Shut her up or I will make you cut her tongue out._

,

"I helped you, I gave you a ride. Please…"

"Enough!" Sarah jumps at the sound of his voice. "Keep up and don't talk." Dean wonders why the Skraben doesn't use her mind to silence the girl but thinks it must be part of the game she plays. Another way to demonstrate her power over him.

The look on Sarah's face should have cut him to the core but it doesn't. Dean looks away as her tears fall but only so he can navigate through the thickening foliage. He is trying to spare her as much pain as he can but Sarah will never know that, probably wouldn't appreciate the quick death versus long and tortured death argument. He feels no need to comfort her but he will try and make it easier.

Awareness of now is for the moment mostly limited to here with flashes and feelings of before. He remembers the bad things though and they seem to swallow anything, everything else up. He knows it's his fault that Sarah has been caught up in this, a good turn on her part that will cost her dearly.

A part of him wants the chance to explain, to ask for forgiveness but he doesn't see how that could possibly help her.

So he says nothing.

Dean lets a part of himself stay for Sarah because he doesn't think she should be alone. This isn't her world.

The part of him that's full of passion and hope and all he holds in his heart crawls broken and bleeding to a dark corner of his mind. Curls up where nothing else can touch or hurt. He's no longer a son or a brother…he just is.

A light rain has begun to fall as they walk further into the isolated wilderness. Sarah is crying again but at least she's stopped talking. Dean glances at her and realises she's shaking from the cold and she's only wearing a thin jumper and pants which are now soaked. His shoulder hurts as he shrugs out of his jacket and his left hand isn't moving so good either as he places the leather around her shoulders.

Sarah doesn't speak or look at him and he's not really surprised. He doesn't expect anything from her.

The snow drifts are deeper now and Dean feels his muscles pulling as he works to keep them moving. The hot sweat chills his body as soon as it hits the frigid air, making him shake and wonder how long he can keep going.

The Skraben is walking ahead of them and Dean is shocked to see her suddenly stumble, her reaction somehow hitting into his consciousness like a blast furnace and he gasps. Her raw hunger screams through his body.

_Bring her here now_.

She snakes an arm out and takes Sarah from his grasp, pushing her up against the dark trunk of a tree and slashing through jumper and skin in one quick movement. Dean stands stunned as he watches Sarah struggle, sees the blue glow of the demon as it bears its teeth and sinks them skin deep.

"No. Not her, use me. I'll…I'll make you…feel good." Knows what he's saying but all that matters is making this easier, less painful for Sarah. Nothing can hurt him anymore. Not now.

She lets the bloodied girl drop and is on him biting and clawing and he throws his head back and lets her just like he said he would. Makes himself move against her and all he can feel is the ice on his skin and the warmth of his blood as it spills.

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Dean's feet move without his permission as he obeys her voice. His clothes are ripped and open and it feels like sharp needles are pressing against his exposed chest and neck. One arm is wrapped around Sarah who is barely conscious and the other tucked against his own body as he stumbles forward. His jeans are stained red and blood marks his skin but the flow has stopped in the cold air and his footprints in the snow are no longer stained crimson.

She stops again in a valley strewn with rocks and old growth trees and Dean's heart rate increases as he tries to anticipate what comes next.

"In here." She speaks aloud and Sarah cringes against him.

Dean looks blankly as she points to a small crevice low in the rocks. He doesn't comprehend what she wants until she grips his shoulder and pushes him to his knees. His arm drops from Sarah's waist but she falls to the ground with him anyway, too exhausted to stand alone.

Slowly crawling forward and hoping Sarah will have the presence of mind to follow, Dean has to drop on his stomach to get through the opening. He panics for a second as his hand and shoulder scrape against rock but then feels the space in the darkness that bends around sharply to the right before opening into a wider crawlspace.

Claustrophobia has never been a problem before but suddenly it's like there's not enough air to breathe and he can't move. Sarah moves close and slumps next to him, she touches his arm.

"It's okay." Her scared voice is just above a whisper.

"No." Dean wastes no time pulling his arm away because he doesn't want her pity or comfort. "It's my fault you're here, why would…don't, don't touch me."

"God I'm so scared, I don't want to…Dean? I…I don't think this is your fault. I don't understand but…but I don't think you want this either. Do you?"

"No." Whispered back in the darkness. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

_So touching, really but you need to move now. NOW."_

Dean recoils as the words are like a shockwave inside his head. He feels Sarah tense, shoulders hunching forward as she hears it too.

He has already started inching forward without realising, trying to favour his hand but fatigue makes him clumsy. Teeth gritted in pain, his body mindlessly moves without his full consent and shows no signs of yielding to its own physical limitations.

The Skraben doesn't speak now but her proximity has him strung out and he can barely hear Sarah's harsh breathing over his own. He doesn't realise he has closed his eyes in the pitch blackness as the lack of any visual impact is worse with his eyes open. Feels too much like being buried underground. Buried alive.

It could have been seconds or minutes or hours later when his good hand presses forward and down and meets with no resistance like he has fallen off the edge of the world. There is no attempt to clutch and claw for purchase, just a weary acceptance until the ground rushes up through the darkness and meets him.

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Sam tries to swallow but his throat is bone dry and his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth so he has to concentrate. His lips sting, wincing as the hangover like feeling of heavy head and spinning room creeps into his growing consciousness. Air feels sharp as he draws a rough breath in and then time stands still. Sam manages to sit up leaning heavily on one outstretched arm as a feeling of absolute dread washes over him.

"Dean."

A swaying stand and a few stumbling steps has Sam bracing himself against the wall next to the only window in the room. The drugs haven't quite worn off and he hates this feeling of being suppressed. The long harsh cough that pushes out of his chest brings tears to his eyes as the pain in his lungs expands until he can slow his breathing.

The Impala is still parked outside and Sam feels relief for a few seconds before it dawns on him that this is Dean's way of acknowledging the situation. If he thought he was coming back he would have taken it with him.

As Sam hangs up on the voicemail without leaving a message, all he can think is that he didn't say goodbye. Dean can't go because he didn't say goodbye and you don't just leave your brother behind without saying it.

Sam turns unsteadily from the window gathering his possessions and pointedly ignoring the tremors in his hands.

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It was a given that Dean would kill him if…when he found out. Hell, Sam was running on blind faith here because he was fresh out of ideas and time.

It had to work.

This was Dean and he couldn't let his brother down again.

Only forty five minutes was lost getting the supplies he needed and he hoped it wouldn't be too big a price in the end.

He pulled the car over for the last time on an empty stretch of road outside Placerville and retrieved a few items from the first aid kit. He slid the first needle in without hesitation and pushed the plunger in strong and steady, not bothering to staunch the few drops of his blood that spilled out when the needle was removed. Dead man's blood wasn't that hard to find.

The second needle was inserted just above the drying blood from the first. As Sam's thumb pressed down and the crystalline substance entered his body, he felt pain radiate out from the needle tip. The urge to stop was strong but he had to have enough in him to work, there would be no second chances here.

Another ten minutes and Sam pulled the Impala back onto the road in a swirl of dust as he pushed pedal to the metal. Air from the open window blasted the beads of sweat on his face and distracted him from the nausea and sudden onslaught of pain radiating through his head.

He glanced briefly at the passenger seat and the car was suddenly too empty and too big. No matter how fast he went he couldn't escape that fact.

Dean wasn't there.

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The tyres lose traction a little on the bend and the back of the heavy car drifts outwards until Sam plays the steering, not too fast, and backs off the gas. There are snowdrifts along the road and enough ice on the paved surface to make him concentrate.

He slows the car to a crawl, pulling the vehicle off to the side of the road and then further into the scrub out of sight before turning the engine off. He checks the printout of the map co-ordinates and is still about a mile away from the location but he prefers to go in on foot. The sound of an engine, something big, was getting closer and Sam stills as the four wheel drive cruises past on his side of the road without stopping.

After ten minutes and a turn in the road the large vehicle is parked in front of him, engine off. Sam approaches slowly, about to edge around the rear bumper when movement in the glass in front of him catches his eye and he instinctively ducks. The rear window explodes in a shower of glass and as Sam glances up, an iron wheel lock is reefed out of the ruined frame and swung at his head.

He manages to roll enough so the weighted metal only glances his temple then cheekbone before connecting solidly with the top of his shoulder. Sam resists every ingrained instinct in his body to fight back.

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The right side of his face is ringing and he can't seem to open the eye on that side either. He knows exactly where he is and scrambles to stand up as soon as he can, head bowed low and eyes squinting from the rush of blood and pain. He can't stop his chest convulsing as he coughs long and hard, flecks of red unnoticed on his hand.

"I'm going to take you to your brother Sam but you know what…? I'm going to give you a taste of what's to come."

As Sam feels himself grabbed from behind, head reefed back he doesn't know what to do, how else to fix this. He doesn't know any other way to get to Dean.

_Don't fight me, you've already lost._

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_tbc…_

.


	7. Chapter 7

**What doesn't kill you…**

…**sometimes makes you wish it had.**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural.

**Chapter 7**

Dean feels around him in the dirt until he finds skin and slumps down beside, in front of the girl. Sarah his mind says but he won't call her that because he's no one she should know.

He turns his head in her direction, not making eye contact. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She whispers back as she creeps a little closer to his back, careful not to touch.

"So Dean, I'm seeing a pattern here and I don't mind exploiting it." The voice comes out of the shadows and then he sees her move across the firelight towards them. "If I said you could save her what would you do for me? What would you let me do? Willingly, without my control."

Dean closes his eyes, "Anything."

"Oh God no, don't do this. Please no." He feels Sarah move behind him and then her hand slowly on his arm, like he matters.

He roughly pushes her arm away and kneels head down. "I'll do anything you want…let her go first."

"Oh, she's not going anywhere. You're just going to save her a little pain."

_Don't move little girl or I'll bleed him dry._

Sarah's inhales sharply but otherwise doesn't move, can't look away as the creature changes colour and writhes and feeds. She feels tears streaming down her face as she sees how Dean's legs and body shake, how his back arches in pain and how he bites back on a scream and she can't understand why anyone would do this for her.

By the time he is dropped, discarded to the floor her throat is aching so badly she almost chokes. Waiting until the creature walks away, Sarah carefully puts her hand on Dean's face and then slowly fixes his clothes over his body and ghosts her fingers over the bloody wounds in his skin. Over the scars. Her hands want to fix him but she can't do anything more and draws them back against her as he finally moves.

She understands why he doesn't like to be touched.

A noise at the far corner of the room startles her and she skitters away a little then moves back, trying to rouse Dean. He sits up with a low groan and glances behind him head down, knows Sarah saw everything that was done to him and he can't bear to see that reflected back at him.

He turns instead to see Sam limping into the room then pushed to his knees without a fight. His brother's clothes are ripped and wet and he can see purple bruising down Sam's face, one eye swollen shut. Oh God no.

Dean is conflicted. He feels the sheer terror and helplessness of seeing Sam like this, hurt. Something inside him wars between instinct and insanity. Sammy is hurt something screams within him but he has nothing left. She took everything from him.

_Come here_.

God, no, no. Even as he gets to his feet and obediently stumbles over to her.

She laughs and speaks aloud. "Hit him. Use your fist and hit his face as hard as you can."

As his hand clenches he knows something is gonna give because he can't stop this and he doesn't want to see the betrayal on his brother's bruised face and this has to end. He won't hurt Sammy and he's fighting to hold on to that but he's slipping and her voice is like lightning in his head. Jagged bolts of white heat that sear through everything, his strength and his sense of sense.

It's too much and this will be the bit that snaps him in two.

"Dean?" Already broken and bloodied, the sound of his brother's voice rips him apart all over again and it takes all he's got to drag himself away and close the darkness around himself again.

"It's okay Dean." Sam looks up at his brother's face but he doesn't think Dean is looking back at him even when he feels his brother's fist collide with his mouth. Sam goes down and rolls away from Dean with the punch, unable to stop himself groan at the abuse to his already damaged flesh.

He turns his head so he's looking, smiling with pure malice, at the male that brought him here. "That all you got?"

His comment brings out a feral grin as the demon shimmers blue and is on him before he can speak again. Sam yells and can't stop himself fight this time as his shirt is pulled up and he feels teeth sink into his waist, just above his hip bone. He wills his body to hold on and wait as the hands that grip his legs and chest slowly come away.

The creature rolls off him in disbelief as the blue aura turns black and it begins screaming. The female runs to her mate and begins her high pitched wailing that seems to make the air vibrate in the enclosed space. Sam takes a second to roll on his side and drag himself away before finding his feet.

He staggers back to Dean, arm wrapped around his body and he can't seem to stand up straight.

"Dean?" Sam kicks a boot off and crouches unsteadily to retrieve the specially crafted iron switchblade before shoving his foot back in the worn leather. As he stands and coughs, a slice of fire erupts in his chest wiping everything out of his mind and driving him to his knees. "Jesus."

She flies at him and he can't move except to brace himself and she hits him hard. His head snaps back and his body crashes to the floor and he lies stunned on his can't feel the knife in his fingers and claws frantically in the dirt until he feels one of his arms wrenched behind him. He coughs, trying to draw breath and tastes blood in his mouth.

He twists his spent body around and shivers a little as he faces her full on and sees hatred and death up close. He can feel his body shutting down, pain ebbing through him still, since, he slid the needle into his own arm. Worth it though he thinks, one nearly down and one to go.

And Dean is still alive. So far.

"What have you poisoned him with?"

_Tell me!_

His mind vibrates with her anger in his head. She suddenly stands and kicks into the open wound in his side and Sam's just thankful he's already on the ground and can't fall anymore. He screams instead.

"Doesn't matter." A hollow voice behind them. "He's dead."

They both turn in time to see Dean plunge the knife into the still moving body on the ground before the older boy clutches his head, face contorted in pain. The Skraben's body turns to a husk before the knife is even pulled out. Sam's hand reaches down inside his boot and sock and brings the syringe quickly up to his mouth, pulling the cap and stopper off. He manages to lift his arm and slams the needle down hard into her thigh, pushing the plunger.

Her eyes move from Dean and she looks at him for a second in disbelief before her body relaxes and her head tips forward. Sam watches as the tranquiliser takes effect but he wasn't prepared for her to lunge at his shoulder as she slid down, biting in and drawing blood before he pushes her to the floor.

"Kill me…kill him." The words whispered even as her eyes close. Sam warily edges away as the Skraben's body shakes and convulses and he can hear her growls of pain from the metal transferred from his blood, even under the heavy sedation.

Sam knows now that the dead man's blood and silver iron mix that is sliding through his veins will repel her control even though he still seems to hear her thoughts. He knows now that when they drink it they hurt. He can see it working as the demon's body contorts even though he thinks it might be killing him as well.

"Finish…her." Sam goes cold at the sound of his brother's voice and closes the distance between them. Dean is still on his knees but his head is bent down and he's shaking and Sam sees him properly, sees the blood and damage.

Sees that Dean is still feeling her pain.

"Dean? Oh God, I didn't mean…I…I poisoned her when she bit me." Sam fumbled on the other side of his boot and retrieved the last syringe. It felt like he was holding a lead weight. "It's gonna be okay, I'm gonna give you this and then I'll kill her and you're…you're gonna be okay."

"No." Dean's voice is harsh as the shockwaves of pain from the demon travel through his own body. His head lifts up as his eyes close and the chords of muscle in his neck strain as he cries out and presses his hands forward onto the ground then collapses further onto his forearms.

Sam places a hand on his brother's shoulder but Dean shrugs it off and pushes away, now scrambling backwards. "I'm not gonna let this kill you Dean. This'll work, you've just gotta trust me."

Dean fights him but Sam isn't about to lose this battle because he knows this is the only way to save his brother.

"No, get off me. Get the fuck off me." Sam wonders where Dean is getting the strength to fight him so fiercely but all he needs is skin and he finds it. "Please…don't…I don't want…this."

Knees in the dirt and hands on his thighs he tries to catch his ragged breath as the green eyes close in front of him. He just fought and drugged his brother and he can't quite get past that or get his mind around what's happening. Can't understand why Dean won't let him help. Can't understand why he can't quite think properly.

And now there's another voice in his head.

"He doesn't like to be touched."

Maybe not in his head. Sam looks up towards the voice and sees a girl. "What…?"

"I think he…Dean…you scared him when you touched him."

Sam stands as best he can, half hunched over but stills when he sees the girl is slowly moving away from him, scared of him. "I won't hurt you. I'm…I'm Dean's brother Sam and you're gonna be okay. I have to…maybe you should go back near the wall while I finish this."

He retrieves the bloodied knife from the ground, coughing a spray of blood on the ground as he straightens. He pauses as the girl drags his brother off into the corner and he understands she's no threat but he has to cast protection over his brother before he kills the Skraben.

Dazed and limping slightly, Sam slowly moves towards the back wall of the underground room, his shadow disjointed as it undulates across the contoured rock and earth. A small fire crackles in a worn pit to the side of the room, smoke trailing up and disappearing through a small fissure in the rock above. In the flickering glow he can see this isn't the first time this place has been used.

"I know this is a lot to take in but I haven't got time to explain." He whispers both to keep the girl calm and because it hurts like hell to speak at all. "What's your name?"

"Sarah." She hesitates briefly, "Do you…want me to do anything?"

Sam shakes his head and smiles a little for her benefit, tries to appear confident. Not like he's about to fall in a heap. "Just…just stay with him when I'm done."

Sarah shifts nervously when the tall boy kneeling on the ground looks like he's gone into some kind of trance but then he speaks and she doesn't understand the words. Just watches mesmerised as he speaks again and pours something from a small flask that was hidden in his half shredded jacket. Catches glimpses of dried blood and torn skin and wonders how bad he's really hurt.

He gives Sarah a nod when he's finished and palms the knife as he moves back over to where the demon lies twitching on the ground. Unscrewing the lid of the flask that he still clutches in his hand, he places both on the ground between his knees and strengthens his grip on the hilt of the knife.

Knows he has to work quickly, before the drugs and spells and desperate pleading prayers to God wear off. Sam still hesitates with the knife poised in the air and he can't move and can't breathe and can't think about whether he's got it right or whether this is going to kill his brother.

Whether he is going to kill his brother.

"Please…" Whispered to no one.

With a sob he plunges the knife into her heart and buries it deep, twists it a little and then pulls it out. He quickly pours the remaining contents of the flask into the wound. Sam flinches when the liquid hisses as it makes contact with the wound and his hands fall on shards of bone when the body underneath him crumbles like sandstone.

Over. It's over.

Knows its not when his brother's voice once again shatters the silence in agony.

No…no.

"Sam? Sam what's wrong with him? What happened?"

Sarah's tearful voice cuts through to him and he goes to her somehow without registering how he picked himself up from the dirt, watching as Dean thrashes and starts choking.

"On his side, get him on his side." Sam helps Sarah roll Dean's body over just as black liquid froths out of his brother's mouth. "Dean?"

"God what is it?"

"I don't know, I think…I think it worked."

Sam kneels behind Dean, bracing his brother's heaving body with his knee until he feels the weight shift forward and he doesn't have the strength to follow. Can barely speak.

"Dean?"

They sit in the dirt with the glow and crackle of the small fire around them. They wait nearly an hour as Sam watches over his brother writhing and fighting in agony. Waiting until he finally calms.

There's a few precious seconds when Dean moves, eyes searching and finally meeting his own and he can't help the crooked grin of absolute relief, his heart still pumping wildly in his chest and his lungs burning brightly. Sam ignores the pull of split skin on his swollen face as he squints to focus his one open eye.

And then Dean is moving away.

"Hey you okay man?" Sam reaches an unsteady arm out, voice rough. "Take it easy."

"Yeah." Dean grunts and moves, a slow roll onto his side away from the hand that now pauses in midair. "Is…is she, it dead?"

Sam nods. "S'over."

"Need…to get the girl out of here."

Dean meets his stare briefly before turning away unfazed and something cold brushes the back of Sam's neck sending goosebumps down his spine and across his shoulders. He watches Dean stumble and weave across the cave and he knows he should be grateful because Dean is alive and here and fuck, it's over.

He can put it…this…everything, behind him. Behind them. Start to move on.

Except he can't…he has to stay in the battlefield and sift through the carnage.

Sam knows he can't go anywhere until he finds his brother again.

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They crawl out of the earth with Sam in the lead and find themselves in the dim pre light of dawn with purple shadows and a chill in the air that sinks into them so quickly and bone deep it hurts.

"We need to get moving or we'll freeze. Head South, keep the sunrise on your right and we should get to the road."

Sam nods, he doesn't question Dean's sense of direction – it was just one of those things you didn't question. Like salt shot or silver bullets. It's his brother's lifeless voice, flat and just wrong and he just wants to stop and shake him and make him sound like Dean should sound. Full of life and passion and not this but Sam hurts and he can't find the words in his head.

Dean moves forward just ahead of them but still flanking Sarah. Sam is holding the girl around the waist as she shuffles along, her head slouched forward in front of his shoulder. They don't speak and he glances back and forth between Dean's face and the rising sun.

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When she fell it wasn't the first time, or the fourth time she had collapsed as the strength pumping through her veins just gave out. It was just the first time that Sam hadn't managed to save her from hitting the ground in a boneless heap.

Sam tenses as Sarah's weight tilts but his fingers won't grip or hold on and he feels her slide out of his arms. As he bends down to pick her up, he sinks into the snow on his knees because they just won't lock into place. The only movement Sarah makes is to breathe.

He jumps when Dean comes into his range of vision, up close as he bends down and somehow picks Sarah up off the white ground in front of him. Sam watches and thinks he might have blanked out for a minute and he's not sure if he can stand up ever again.

"Sam, c'mon get up."

Sam swallows and nods, only making brief eye contact, "Yeah." He knows it's not gonna happen but he doesn't want to break in front of Dean. His brother has been through so much more but is somehow managing to keep going.

Dean frowns and stands still even though Sam can see him swaying. "Y'hear that?" He puts Sarah back on the ground and stands up blinking slowly. "Car."

Iced fingers work their way up his thighs as the snow soaks the denim around his knees. Sam looks up at Dean without moving his head, "Go."

He's not sure if he spoke out loud until Dean glances his way, "I'll get help."

As he watches Dean move past him he's too focused on the red snow that marks his brothers passing to notice he's falling and there's suddenly cold ice stinging his bruised face. The first thing he sees is Sarah beside him and he's so cold and distraught he needs to reach out. He has to touch her just so he knows he's not really alone.

He manages to grasp her fingers in his own even though he can't close his hand properly. "Hang on Sarah."

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Martin slams the brakes on the old station wagon and closes his eyes as he feels the vehicle skid. He curses out loud for not stopping to put the chains on and prays to the good Lord he didn't hit the idiot kid that had staggered across the road in front of him. He opens the door and swallows his anger as he sees the boy on the ground struggling fiercely to get back up. He realises there is more to this as he hurries to the front of the car, boots crunching on the crusty layer of fresh snow.

"Shit." He fumbles for his phone and dials as he crouches down to calm the panic of the fallen and bloodied figure at his feet. "Stay still, stay still, I'm calling an ambulance."

"My brother."

The words are a whisper but spoken like an order and the older man raises his head to see something on the ground where the red trail ends. He feels like he's in someone else's nightmare when he finds two more battered bodies, lying hand in hand in the snow.

Any remaining semblance of calm is lost as he screams in his phone.

_tbc…_


	8. Chapter 8

**What doesn't kill you…**

…**sometimes makes you wish it had.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural._

_a/n: I feel like I've got a lot more of this story to tell so yeah, I've gagged the fat lady and thrown her in my closet! _

_Also, Deangirl1 got me thinking about how Sam doesn't comfort Dean by touch and it added a new dimension I was looking for - sorry to disappoint if you thought it was all over. _

_(Apologies for the typos in the last chapter...I cringed when I saw so many! head/keyboard snsnsnsnsnsn)_

_lb._

**Chapter 8**

There's something chasing him but he can only catch glimpses of it in the corner of his eye.

He runs fast, pumping his arms and desperately searching for something at the same time. He feels like he's gaining freedom, escape, until he puts a foot down and there's nothing.

Falling.

Dean jumps like he's been shocked and his leg flails searching for solid ground, shaking the bed enough that he wakes with a start. His hands clench to his sides gaining purchase and he pulls his body upright, panting and gasping through the pain.

He squints as a sudden beeping to his left triggers a pain behind his eyes as effectively as a physical blow. In a rush of movement and more noise there are hands on him pushing his shoulders back and trying to put something over his mouth.

"NO!" Feels clawing and holding and force and he won't let her do this anymore.

"You just need to lay back, you've unplugged the monitors and IV. Just relax and we'll…"

"Won't…no…no more."

He yells and struggles against the press on his wrists and knees but everything goes a little hazy and his muscles relax. Dean listens as the voices float around in the darkness and fade out.

Whispered sounds filter through the haze.

"Can I sit with him?"

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There's a feeling through his body that just wants to stretch out but he instinctively stifles any movement and just listens. Awareness of someone close makes him cautiously open his eyes and he turns his head, surprise and horror illuminating his features before they shadow and darken again.

"I didn't mean to startle you, they said I could sit with you for a while."

He takes in the steady beep and the various tubes and bandages that cover him before he raises his eyes to hers, nodding slightly. "Sa…Sam? Where's my brother?"

Sarah winces at the sound of his raw voice and stares at the hands in her lap which have begun to slowly wring themselves. She didn't miss the look on his face at seeing her there.

"He hasn't woken up yet." She whispers. "He's very sick Dean but they're doing everything…they're gonna fix him up."

"How long have…?"

"They brought us here yesterday morning. You saved me."

Tears on her face, Sarah moves forward and Dean freezes just before he feels her warm skin on his forearm. He reefs his arm away and surprises both of them.

Sara moves back slowly in her chair, eyes wide and hand pressed against her mouth. "I'm sorry."

Dean nods his head a little and hopes she understands that's all he can manage.

Adrenaline from the cold, hard panic that had surged through him when he felt her skin on him leeches away quickly. Eyelids flicker as he fights to stay awake.

"I'm gonna sit here for a while if it's okay. I'll wake you if there's any news on your brother."

He tells himself he's too tired to care as his eyes close.

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"Sam?"

"Dean it's Sarah. Sam's…Sam's not here."

A pause.

"How long?"

A sigh.

"How long have I been here Sarah?"

"Two days. It's been two days now. You keep fighting them so they keep sedating you. I'm sorry."

"Sam?"

He watches as she shakes her head slowly. "He hasn't woken."

Makes himself not speak.

A thought crosses his mind and he frowns and wonders why it hadn't occurred to him before. "Why, why are you still here?" Not sure whether he means it as an accusal or a dismissal.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright, I didn't mean to stay." She hesitates. "Then I just wanted to help and then no one came for you. Either of you."

"So I stayed."

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Dean was shaking and gasping as a nurse wheeled him along the corridor with drip in tow, the pain behind his eyes battling with the stitched wounds and other damage for dominance of his attention. The physical pain became insignificant every time his mind dredged up a random memory of the last few days or months and he drifted back and forth between the past and present.

Months.

His brain explores the concept of how long a time that was and rejected that it could even be possible. Months would mean that he had been a victim that long. Months would mean a near inexhaustible supply of memories that he was neither willing nor able to relive or revisit.

Months was a lifetime.

He realises he has stopped moving and the brown eyes of the nurse are watching him not unkindly, a frown creasing her features. "Can you hear me Dean?"

Nods his head, relieved she keeps her distance.

"I'll get Doctor Williams and he'll talk to you about your brother. He won't be long."

Dean thinks he may have lost the concept of time altogether when he realises that suddenly he's not alone at all and a thin man with greying hair is now speaking to him.

A whole lot of words like pneumonia, poisoning, head trauma and assault inundate him, the individual words washing over him almost meaningless before his brain starts to register and overload. He doesn't understand how they relate to Sam.

He looks at his brother behind the mask and tubes, lost in a sea of machines and feels…sad?

Dean wonders if that's the way he's supposed to feel but there's no lore or journal to check or research so he's pretty much stuck with what he's got. He doesn't feel like he has a whole lot of options here**. **

Detached and sad's pretty much all he's got left.

Dean attempts to sort through the medical jargon and innuendo trying to work out exactly what he needs to know. "Will he, will he be alright?"

The Doctor raises his eyes from the chart and looks at Sam as well. "I hope so Dean but it's going to take a little while. We've already begun the chelation therapy to remove the metal compound from his blood."

"The what?"

"Your brother's blood tests came back with indicators for heavy metal off the scale. Chelation therapy is quite painful but it's the only way to help the body filter out the compound. You have to be aware though that this process can only halt further effects of the poisoning, it can't reverse neurological damage already sustained. I take it you don't know what happened to him."

"He was…Sam was okay. I mean apart from…everything. I thought he was just sick…from before. He was hurt…before."

The Doctor moved the bedside chair and sat down facing Dean. "The x-rays did indicate pneumonia and pleural effusion but that's being managed with antibiotics." He gestured towards the IV line. "The assualt damage is physically superficial but psychologically may be more traumatic. He also has substantial scar tissue, some quite recent that would indicate severe injury but I can't find anything on his medical history."

"We were overseas. He was knifed."

The Doctor exhaled as he seemed to consider this new information before continuing. "My biggest concern at the moment is that Sam hasn't regained consciousness yet and we won't be able to determine whether he has any impairment until then."

"Impairment?"

"Metal poisoning, depending on exposure and severity can cause a range of problems, some short term and some permanent."

"How bad could it be?"

"I don't think there's any point speculating, Sam could also wake up with little or no damage to…"

"How bad could it be?"

The older man paused, frowning before he continued. "It could range from forgetfulness or trouble concentrating right through to some form of permanent intellectual impairment. It seems to differ from patient to patient and some effects are only temporary but this isn't something that we come across often and I can't offer you any certainties."

Dean shook his head, eyes never leaving his brother's face. Whatever the hell Sam had done to make himself immune to the Skraben's touch telepathy had saved them but it had come with a high price tag.

"I'm sorry Dean, I know this is very difficult. I'll give you a bit of time then send a nurse in to help you get back to your room."

Dean didn't acknowledge the other man's exit or much else that was going on around him as he continued to watch Sam.

He remembered being here like this too many times in his lifetime to even comprehend, waiting for Sam to open his eyes or move. He remembered feeling so wrung out with worry and fear, talking quietly hoping his brother could hear him, putting his hand over Sam's and sitting for hours so he wouldn't wake up alone.

Dean remembered and knew he should be feeling like that now, he knew he should move the hair from Sam's face and rub his thumb over the back of Sam's knuckles and tell him he had to wake up now. The best he could do was to sit there in the room listening to the machines and wondering what he was going to do if those eyes opened.

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He runs as fast as he can to keep up. Sam is sixteen and all sinew and speed and Dean has to push himself hard just to keep in arms length of his brother. Dean realises at this precise moment that he is not going to be quick enough as his brother runs without hesitation into the burning building. As he reaches the singed entrance seconds behind, the heat flares up and sears his lungs as the very oxygen in the air is stolen by the flames.

The building collapses in a fireball and he can't move. Can't do anything but watch.

And scream.

"NO!"

He feels pressure on his shoulder and opens his eyes in panic as he still can't find enough oxygen to fill his lungs. Seconds pass before the world comes crashing back down around him and his body recoils involuntarily away from the contact.

"Sam?"

"Calm down, just relax you were having a nightmare. You're in the hospital and you're safe now."

The word spins around in his mind as he takes in the nurse standing in front of him as she backs away a little. He shivers as the sweat turns to ice on his skin.

Safe. The word means nothing to him – a hollow empty promise. He can't remember what it feels like to be safe.

He nods a little, hoping she will leave him alone because he'll be fine if she just goes away. He's knows this feeling of panic won't last because he's pretty sure he doesn't panic.

"I just wanted to let you know that Sam seems to be stirring a little and I thought you might like to go and see him."

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He sits in the visitor's chair, the wheelchair abandoned just inside the door of the room. They had made him use it to get here but they couldn't make him stay in it.

There was a small thin scar barely visible, that ran from the knuckle of Sam's index finger to the base of his thumb, and Dean can't remember how it got there. It was such a small thing, insignificant, especially in comparison to the much larger scars both old and new that ran across Sam's skin but it was there and he didn't know how or why. It was just there.

Dean thinks that it's the little things that make it so hard in the end. Sometimes it's the little things you didn't really notice that end up breaking you into pieces when you aren't looking.

"De…Dean?" A raw whisper that breaks into his consciousness.

Uncomfortable silence settles like cold dew, seeping and stealing warmth. Sam's eyes hazy and green brown, half lidded but still managing to startle him into uncertainty. Again, he has no idea how he's supposed to feel but he thinks he should feel something more than this.

"Sam? Y'okay?"

He sees his brother take a gasping breath and then another as he shakes his head, eyes confused and mouth opening without sound.

"Dean?" Almost a sob this time.

"It's okay Sam, you're…safe." He clenches his fists so tightly he can feel his nails digging into the skin of his palms but it does nothing to make him feel like he's in the room. Still feels like he's watching this unfold in front of him, detached and empty.

"I…I…don't…" Sam squeezes his eyes closed. "Hurts." He whispers as though he doesn't want to tell.

"I'll get someone." Dean pushes the call button and tries not to catch his brother's eyes because all he sees is desperation and pleading and he doesn't know how to fix those things.

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Dean watches as the Doctor does the routine with the light and the stethoscope and knows there'll be tests and scans and all he wants to know is what's wrong. Sam hasn't spoken since the Doctor came in the room and that hasn't been a problem until now.

Now it seems to be a big problem.

"Okay Sam, can you tell me what year we're in?"

Sam opens his mouth and closes it again, and Dean realises his brother has turned to look at him. Raw confusion and terror etched across Sam's face amidst the bruises.

"Don't…don't remember." Sam sags back on the pillow, turning his head to the side as lines of pain or worry mark his forehead and the creases of his eyes.

Dean's mouth goes dry as he tries to rationalise.

"Do you remember what happened to you, how you got hurt?"

Sam shakes his head, eyes down.

"That's okay Sam. It's pretty common for your memory to lapse a little after a major trauma and you've just woken up, so we'll give you some time to adjust. I'll schedule some scans and we'll go from there."

"He said he was in pain. When he woke up he was in pain."

"I can increase the pain meds a little but I'd like to check your memory and reactions in a few hours Sam. Try and get some rest and I'll see you later. You should probably do the same Dean."

"I'm gonna stay for a bit." The older man nods his head as he walks from the room.

"What…what happened t…to us?"

"Just, just a hunt gone wrong Sam but we finished it. You finished it and saved the girl. Saved me."

"Dean. God I…I don't know I…can't think. How b…bad you hurt?"

"I'm okay. Got a little bruised and bitten – been worse." Dean averts his eyes. "What's the last thing you remember Sam?"

"I'm not…everything's kinda j…jumbled up. I remember the crash and, and Andy. We were at the roadhouse and Dean…what's wrong with me?"

"Sam you've just forgotten a few things man that's all okay. Don't matter if you forget this job, hell it's probably better anyway. Wish I could forget half the hunts we've been on." It's meant to sound blithe but it falls far short and they both know it.

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A dull light colours the room and Sam lies there trying to work out whether it's dawn or dusk before he relents and looks at the clock on the wall. Barely dawn and he already feels worn out and jaded. He swallows down the panic as he tries in vain to recall something, anything from the hunt that had landed them both here.

He's still got tubes and wires hooked up to his arms and chest and places he doesn't want to think about. The Doctor explained he needed more tests and not to worry but Sam's not that fucked up he can't tell there's plenty to worry about.

He knows there's something wrong with him – more than the amnesia and physical injuries and he knows his brother can see it as well. Dean won't look at him most of the time and when he does, Sam sees something reflected back at him that he doesn't recognise and it fills him with dread. He desperately needs Dean to reach out to him but he keeps his distance as though Sam will infect him.

He wonders what he did to make Dean treat him like this but he won't ask – not yet. He thinks it must be something big.

There are little things he's noticed since he woke up two days ago. Little things that make him breathe like he's just run a race but he can mostly hide them. Dean passes him a sheet to fill out now he can eat something but the words get confused and he can read them but they don't mean anything. He says he's not hungry so Dean chooses for him anyway.

Sometimes without warning, his body trembles and won't work how he wants. The message gets screwed between his brain and his hands mostly and he stops trying to reach for things until he's by himself. Dean makes him eat and he picks the fork up on his third attempt then misses the plate and blames his still swollen eye. He tells Dean to leave and get some rest.

His heart sinks when Dean nods silently and walks out of the room without any argument.

Sam can't eat now anyway.

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Sam stares out the window while his brother goes to get the coffee he's not supposed to have yet. He knows Dean is getting restless and he feels it too. At least they've unhooked him from everything and he can move around a bit on his own now.

A shadow moves in from the door and he turns and watches as a girl slowly moves towards him.

"I think you've g…got the wrong room." He says quietly.

"No Sam I haven't."

He sits up straighter without realising, trying to recognise her features. "I don't know you." He says it almost like a question because he not sure of so many things at the moment.

"I know you don't remember, your brother told me but I still needed to say thank you. I'm leaving and I just wanted to say thank you. You and Dean saved my life and I'm so sorry you both got hurt so bad. I'm so sorry."

"I'm…I, I don't know what…are you alright?"

"Yeah. Dean he, he stopped me from getting hurt a lot worse but he..." She shook her head and looked back up at him. "I remember you held my hand, I was so cold and I felt your hand and it sounds stupid but it made me want to be strong. I'm glad you're getting better Sam, and I hope Dean is alright – I guess he just needs some time."

"He'll be b...back in a sec he's just getting…"

"No. I don't think he…it's easier this way, just tell him I said goodbye. Tell him I won't forget what he did. Not ever." She pauses for a second before quickly moving forward and placing a piece of paper in Sam's hand. "If you need anything or get into trouble I want to help."

She's gone like a startled deer before Sam can react and he stares at the number and name.

Sarah.

Dean says nothing when Sam tells him what happened and offers no real answer when Sam asks about Sarah.

"Just a job Sam. She'll rationalise it and forget about us in a day or two just like everyone else. We don't exist in their world and they don't belong in ours."

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Sam doesn't usually lose his temper, not in front of strangers. He usually reserves that for those he is closest to and reigns in any public display of emotion.

Sam doesn't usually get confused or make stupid mistakes though so all bets are off when he fails both the hand eye co-ordination and basic comprehension tests. The wild look in his eyes and the short shallow breathing should have pinged Dean's early warning system but the objects on the bedside table are midway across the room before anyone even manages to duck reflexively

Obviously Sam's motor skills are working to some degree.

As much as the Doctor talks about misfiring neurons and the body's ability to repair itself with time and physiotherapy, the only certainty he gives is there will be more tests. The only advice is to take it slow and consider the possibility that some effects may be permanent. He leaves some brochures on the table.

Sam doesn't react at all as the Doctor speaks, staring vacantly across the room. Dean nods and tries to appear calm even as he struggles with the concept that his brother…that Sam isn't the same.

This hunt has changed everything.

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He wakes startled and there's a hand gripping his arm fiercely, briefly. "Sam wake up. Sam?"

"What…what's wrong? Dean?" He squints in the darkness, still trying to decide if he's dreaming.

"We gotta go, I think the credit card's gone bad. I heard one of the nurses talking at the desk and we can't risk waiting around okay. I've already spoken to the cops and given them a statement about what happened but…we gotta leave Sam."

Dean puts some clothes on the bed and Sam notices his brother is already dressed in clothes covered in dirt and gore. The clothes he picks up from the bed, his clothes, look much the same.

"Found the jackets in a maintenance cupboard, they should cover enough of the bloodstains and rips to get us out of here." Dean shrugs awkwardly into a dark blue zip jacket, wincing at the movement.

Sam feels light headed and he's shaking by the time they reach the car park and Dean hands him a bag of what looks like medical supplies. He blindly follows and then hunches down as best he can as Dean makes quick work opening the door of an old station wagon. Sam climbs in the passenger side as his brother leans under the steering column and strips the wires then sparks them until the engine coughs then rumbles to life.

His brother is almost doubled over the wheel and Sam's not sure if he's in pain or concentrating. He tucks his left hand against his body as it starts to spasm and jumps a little when Dean hits his fist on the wheel.

"We're gonna have to go find the car first." Dean pulls over at the first truck stop they pass. "Wait here Sam I'm gonna have to get Ash to try and get a GPS location from Dad's old phone in the glove box."

Sam nods as he realises they've got nothing but their wallets and bloodied clothes and he wonders how his brother couldn't know where they left the Impala.

He answers his own question a minute later when his hand extracts a set of keys from the inner pocket of his ripped jacket.

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A young child hugs without hesitation, without a second thought or fear of any consequences. It's a natural release for high emotion and children need the physical contact. The physical comfort.

Most kids reach a certain age where this reaction becomes naturally tempered by society for whatever reason even though the need may still remain. Sam had had this reaction drilled out of him by the time he was seven years old so he adjusted.

He never wanted to let go if his father or Dean wrapped an arm across his shoulders and he smiled like an idiot if they roughed him up or just patted him on the back when the hunt went well. It was okay then but he still made sure he didn't hold on, so they didn't think he needed it.

So they didn't feel obliged.

He trained himself to hold back because he would not let himself be the reason his brother or father got hurt. Even at seven, he understood that running to hold his brother if he got scared or thought Dean had been hurt could risk someone's life. His Dad had told him he had to hold back because Dean would never tell him not to, would never push him away.

Sam adjusted so he didn't rely on physical contact. He needed it, craved it like everyone else but when it came to his family he rarely initiated it. Sam had adjusted so that Dean wouldn't get hurt and that was something he carried with him still, even as an adult. It was hard to unlearn something so ingrained.

It also made it harder to bear when he did reach out and found himself pushed away. Torn down like he could offer no solace worth having – made him realise he shouldn't have tried.

It had been three weeks since they had left the hospital. Three weeks of crappy rooms and hustling pool because Dean wouldn't let Sam work a hunt and they needed the money anyway. Three weeks of pain and healing for both of them and dancing around the fact that Sam had something wrong with him even though he seemed to be getting a little better.

He hadn't been stuttering his words so much and he could read a bit better although sheer frustration at the dramatic decrease in his skills made him shy away from the written word for the first time in his life. Sometimes he almost wished he didn't remember what he used to be like because he knew he would never be good enough again in his own mind.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much if he didn't remember a lot of things.

He sat cleaning the knives at the small breakfast table in the room while Dean had gone to get food. They still cleaned their weapons and checked the local papers because that's what they did and there had been no discussion about changing that ritual. They both needed the twisted normalcy of their lives, something to cling to ferociously.

Sam had changed his ritual in the past week though and now he made sure he got to the knives before his brother.

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He had finally talked Dean into letting him walk down the block alone to pick up dinner – he knew his sibling was just looking out for him but he felt like he needed to prove it wasn't necessary. It hadn't taken him that long to pick up food and a few supplies and he had opened the door and froze. Dean had been tracing a finger along the sharp edge of a hunting knife, not even aware of what he was doing even as the blood dripped bright red from the blade.

The way his brother just stared hungrily at the honed steel as though it could be his salvation made Sam shudder. Sam had walked right on up to the table before Dean had noticed his presence and then stared blankly at his hand before walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind him without a word.

Sam made sure he cleaned the knives now.

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He was always careful, his movements slower and more deliberate than they used to be when he had to concentrate on a more intricate task. Sam hated that the way he felt so helpless when he couldn't control his own body but he could often feel a tingling sensation right before a seizure. It more often than not gave him enough warning to escape from watchful eyes if he had the opportunity.

It was always his hands that seized and he usually had trouble talking for a while afterwards as well but it could be worse. The Doctor had said it could be a lot worse and this still might fix itself with time. Sam knew he should feel lucky even hopeful but he couldn't reconcile those feelings with the here and now.

There was no warning this time and the spasm had started violently in his right hand, the hand holding the serrated ritual knife. The damage had been done so quickly there was nothing he could do but stare helplessly at the stream of blood that now poured from the slice that ran across his palm and down to his watchband.

Both hands were twisting and shaking now and he managed to drop the knife and clutch both arms against his chest, glad there was no one else to witness his weakness. He was still sitting like that minutes later when the key turned in the lock and his heart sank.

"Jesus Christ Sam. What the hell…?" Dean runs past him and he hears the bathroom door slam open.

"Sl…slipped. M'sorry." He flinches as Dean pulls his arm away and wraps it tightly in a towel.

"Are you cut anywhere else? Did you hurt yourself anywhere else?"

"No. No."

"You don't touch the knives anymore okay. You're gonna need stitches. Jesus Sam, any deeper and you could've bled out before I…"

Dean already has the medical kit opened on his bed and Sam finds himself angry at his stupid body and angry at Dean whose tone almost implied he had done this on purpose. He knows he didn't, was sure he didn't but then he trusts his brother even more than himself lately so he begins to think maybe he did.

He's not sure of so much now.

It takes another ten minutes for the tremors to stop and he can feel the deep ache throb through his hand and up his arm. The stitches are neat and precise and Sam watches as the last one is tied off and Dean just sits on the bed next to him like he's forgotten Sam's there at all. He releases a slow breath and Sam's speechless to see a single tear run unchecked down his brother's face.

"Dean? I'm sorry. I know I'm not…" Sam shakes his head, not sure at all what he is or isn't and can't even finish the sentence.

Dean's shoulders shake a little and he's closed his eyes but he still makes no sound or movement to acknowledge that Sam's right there and Sam can't bear this any more. Can't watch any longer and not want to fix this because whatever this is, it's killing them both slowly. It has been for a month now.

"It's okay Dean. Please, it's okay." Sam's hands are still now and he puts the uninured one gently on Dean's shoulder because that's what his brother used to do and it made him feel like he was stronger. Not alone. He needs Dean to know he's not alone.

But that was before.

Dean jumps up violently like he's had volts of electricity pumped suddenly through his veins and he's turning and yelling and gone out of the room. "Don't fucking touch me Sam. Don't fucking touch me again."

He had thought maybe there was something wrong with Dean as well but he thinks now it's just him. He should've known better.

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It's been nearly three months since the job Sam can't remember and they have another routine now and that's fine because they both know what to do. It's easier when you know what's expected and Sam doesn't want to make things worse than he's already made them.

They take on smaller jobs than they used to because Dean still doesn't trust Sam with the weapons. The salt shots aren't so risky though so they've mainly stuck to salt and burns because the other stuff is too dangerous without reliable back up. Sam knows this even if Dean hasn't said it out loud.

Somehow Sam's still pretty good reciting the Latin, he just has trouble comprehending the words – he figures it doesn't matter if he understands as long as he says it right. His research skills pretty much suck out loud now though and he tries to make up for it on the job. He doesn't care anymore if Dean bails him out about getting hurt and throwing himself in the line of fire because at least it's something he can do right.

He thinks maybe if he tries really hard then Dean might come back, the Dean he knows from before. He misses his brother so much it aches. If he knew how to fix it he would do anything but he still can't remember what happened and he doesn't know where his brother has gone.

It's weird because Dean sometimes goes for hours at a time when they've finished a job. He goes on foot and always come back drunk but somehow still in control. Sam doesn't mind so much because at least he always come back. At the back of his mind Sam is a little afraid that Dean will wake up one day and realise he'd be better off on his own.

It's weird because the first place Sam goes when he has to get away from the silence of the room is always parked outside waiting for him. He sits behind the wheel and thinks he feels closer to his brother here than when he's in the same room.

_tbc…_


	9. Chapter 9

**What doesn't kill you…**

…**sometimes makes you wish it had.**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural.

_a/n: __The question was raised whether I should write this as a sequel but to me it's still the same story so I just want to tell it without the fuss…ie. the story doesn't always end with the hunt!_

_My Chapter 1 a/n stated this was set "somewhere" in season 2 (really just to get a handle on who's died and who hasn't) but it's now gone over into AU I guess…for those that care!_

_lb._

**Chapter 9**

Sam has his rifle trained on the stairwell where the ghost keeps reappearing. There are already three spent shells lying around his feet and he steadies his stance expecting the gnarled old woman to materialise at any moment. True to form, it somehow knew as soon as they entered the house they were on a mission to end it, taking violent exception to the fact that they had now dug up its remains in the dirt floor of the cellar.

They got battered and bruised just getting down here but now it knows they're close and it's desperate. At least it was being predictable and Sam was thankful for that because he felt just about ready to drop. He risked a glance at Dean whose nose had bled spectacularly when he had collided with the solid oak table upstairs. Now as the older boy unscrewed the cap on the kerosene, Sam saw the dark red stain had spread down his brother's shirt.

His eyes shifted back to the stairs just as the spirit became visible but as Sam was about to pull the trigger it was gone again. He held his breath becoming a little nervous at the change in behaviour and quickly scanned the room. He knew Dean was nearly finished as the acrid smell of the accelerant became stronger but he wasn't about to relax. Not yet. He knew better than that.

It didn't help though.

Movement in the corner of his eye made him swing the rifle but he raised the nozzle high then dropped the weapon to the floor as he realised Dean was between him and the now floating wooden headboard that had previously lay discarded against the wall. Dean looked at him as the rifle fell in the dirt but words of warning got choked in his throat when he saw there would be no time for Dean to react so he reacted instead.

As Sam dived he felt his hands connect with Dean's chest and his brother was flung back from the impact. Sam didn't have time to even register pain as the wood impacted his head and he fell boneless in the dirt.

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This particular ghost had been an absolute bitch in every sense of the word. Dean's face already ached as testament to that observation and he just hoped his nose wasn't broken. He knew his brother would also have enough bruises from the upstairs furniture but at least they were nearly finished. He was feeling a little light headed, probably from the nose bleed and the smell of the kerosene in the confined space wasn't exactly helping.

This job had been a little more complicated than they had first thought but Sam had handled himself okay and Dean was relieved. Sam had said he wouldn't stop hunting but Dean had started to think maybe his brother needed to get out of this life. Before he got himself killed proving he was still up for it.

Dean dropped the empty container beside him as he pulled the matches from his pocket, noticing his brother take aim but not fire. He was surprised when Sam turned and dropped the rifle but thought his brother was about to havea seizure. He was more than surprised when Sam dived at him, the force knocking him on his back just as he dropped the match into the shallow dirt grave.

As Dean fell, he saw the large wooden frame hit his brother in the head and then heard the anguished cry that signalled the end of their hunt as the flames greedily swept over the doused skeleton.

It was over and he ached so bone deep and Sam wasn't moving.

And still he lay there stunned and Sam still wasn't moving and he couldn't breathe but he wasn't sure why because Sam was the one that wasn't moving.

Seconds passed like an eternity and Dean crawled over and felt the pulse thrumming in his brother's neck. Felt the breath against his hand. He moved into autopilot and bagged their weapons and clumsily carried his brother out over his shoulder, smoke stinging his eyes.

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Sam had a seizure not long after Dean had placed him on the bed and stitched and dressed the gash in his forehead. He checked his brother's breathing and left some pain meds on the bedside table before he moved away. Had to keep his distance because even the most carefully constructed walls crumbled if the pressure became too much.

Dean had downed two thirds of a bottle of bourbon before Sam stirred enough to be aware of his surroundings.

Dean watches as his brother weaves unsteadily to the bathroom and back but can't speak when Sam tries to talk to him. His brother's words claw at something hidden within him and it just becomes too much. He looks away from the hurt and pain until Sam gets the message and curls on his side facing the wall.

Just over an hour passes and Sam's breathing is even as Dean checks his brother's pulse before he slumps back against the wall and slides to the floor. Satisfied that Sam is just asleep, he picks the bottle up from beside his leg and drinks deeply, wanting to numb the ache of the bruised flesh on his face.

Just wanting to numb the ache.

The room is spinning as Dean staggers to his bed but blessed oblivion soon finds him like an old friend and he welcomes the company.

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Sam is startled awake by the screaming. Even after months of hearing it he still can't help but wake with his heart pounding in his chest. This time the sound seems to vibrate through the fresh stitches in his head that he doesn't even remember being done. He winces as his fingers brush over the still swollen flesh.

Getting out of bed carefully and fishing two Ibuprofen from the half closed bottle, he puts the pills within easy reach as Dean sits up gasping and shaking. He knows his brother won't speak even if he asks the question so he stays silent and watches while his brother takes the pills and rubs at his forehead.

He still says nothing when he sees the purple bruising around his brother's nose and one eye and realises Dean is dressed in last nights clothes, dried blood on his face and shirt proof that he has neglected to treat his own injuries. Sam gets a makeshift ice pack from the freezer and leaves it on the table before he half stumbles towards the shower.

Dean's nightmares and headaches are a part of their routine now, just like Sam's seizures and whatever the hell else is wrong with him. Just another part of their lives - like the too loose clothing that sits askew their too lean bodies. Sam knows his brother moves between not sleeping at all to this merciless torture and he wonders which is worse – the nightmares or the waking reality.

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He did it out of desperation but it wasn't done with any agenda or malice. Dean had gone out to hustle pool alone – he preferred it that way so Sam didn't argue, didn't question. Sam had been getting money for the vending machine and it was just there. A neatly folded piece of paper tucked in his wallet.

After staring at the number for nearly an hour he dialled it and waited, a part of him almost hopeful no one would answer.

But they did.

"Sarah?"

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"Dean come and see this." Sam had just turned on the local news and watched as the bodies of two large grey wolves were used as a backdrop for the commentary.

Sam nodded to the screen as his brother exited the shower and sat on his bed to finish dressing. "These wolves were hunted down last month after a weekend wilderness group were found mauled in Pine Island State Forest."

"Huh, mean looking sons of bitches but I thought they were protected."

"Yeah well the g…guy that hunted them lost his father in the last attack so…" Sam shrugged, knowing he didn't need to finish the sentence.

"Yeah well sometimes you gotta cross the line to get things done." Dean grabbed his wet towel from the floor and stood shaking his head as the next story began with footage of a monkey and a paintbrush. "Must be a slow news day."

"No Dean it's happened again. They've just found two more bodies this afternoon and…and the bodies were ripped up but not eaten. They don't understand and they're gonna get killed trying to st…stop it. I…I think it's a job."

Dean could see his brother was clearly becoming agitated. "Sam if they want to hunt these wolves it's a damn shame but we can't…"

"The first night of the full moon was last night. I…I think it might be a werewolf."

Dean turned and looked at the earnest stare from his younger sibling as he processed the information. "You sure? I mean Northern Minnesota Sam – there's gonna be wolves. You checked the dates and location and…"

Sam ran fingers through his hair and left the heel of his hand pressed against his forehead. "Yeah Dean, I saw it on the other channel when you were getting dinner and…and checked a few things out."

Dean noticed the open laptop for the first time and nodded.

"I…I left the page there if you want to check. I can't access the autopsy reports, just c…can't get it to work." Sam looked away in defeat.

"Sam I didn't mean you got it wrong."

"Then what?"

"There's no way you're hunting if this is a werewolf."

"I…I know you think I'm not good enough now but you can trust me Dean. You know I'm st…still a good shot so don't tell me…"

"Yeah Sam and what happens if you get the shakes as you're about to fire a kill shot and get your throat ripped out instead? You want me to just chalk you up as another expendable casualty and move on, is that it?"

"You're not responsible f…for…me" Sam almost spits the words, knowing his speech becomes affected the more upset he is and he resents the betrayal from his own body. He's come a long way in the past couple of months and regained most of his physical fitness and coordination from sheer hard work and stubbornness. Physiotherapy was too expensive and too risky but he's had enough experience to know how to improvise.

Sam's come to realise that his seizures and verbal fluency are worse when he gets emotional but he can't always control his frustration. The worst part is that he knows his mind isn't functioning at full speed, he's managed to read the hospital brochures and understand most of the indicators but there's nothing he can do about that except push himself and try not to lose hope.

"Like hell Sam. It's my fault you're like…" Dean clamps his jaw shut and shakes his head like he might disperse the ache that is spreading from his chest up into his throat.

"Whatever hap…happened to me isn't your fault. I don't remember what went down but…but I remember our lives before. I know you Dean, you're a g…good person."

Sam saw that Dean was struggling with something. For the first time since they'd left the hospital Sam thought he glimpsed a spark of his brother in the depths of the pain. He's given up on getting his memory back but at the same time he thinks it holds the key to helping his brother.

Dean looks at this boy in front of him. Sam. His brother. He looks into the pain and love and wonders why and how it can still be there after everything that's happened. It would be almost too easy to start talking and not stop till he was done and they were both more broken than before.

If Sam only knew what had happened in those months, in those last few days, he'd feel different but that wasn't going to happen. Sam's memory of the job hadn't returned and Dean's memories of what he did were constantly threatening to overwhelm him even in his current state of denial.

He could never tell Sam what had happened to him, to them. When the Doctor had disclosed Sam's injuries, the ones he couldn't see, Dean had forbidden him to mention them unless Sam remembered himself. He wasn't going to inflict more pain but he still couldn't let his brother hold onto a false hope.

"I know this. I know how to hunt and kill. I'm good at this. I don't know, I don't know how to be like I was, I can't…I'm not that person anymore Sam. I can see it on your face every time I get it wrong but there's nothing I can do. I'm not the same and I get it if you can't do this, I understand if you don't want to stay. I don't know who I am anymore Sam and I can't help you find what you're looking for because it's gone. Who I was is just gone."

"Maybe…maybe I can help you Dean if you'll let me. Why won't you talk about what happened to you, to us?"

"Because it's better left in the past okay. I can't. Just leave it alone Sam. Please."

"You're my brother Dean and…and that's all that matters."

"No Sam. Sometimes that's not enough."

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It's been four months and this is the first job they've taken that isn't a spirit. Sam can tell Dean's still reluctant but it's a simple case of time and place – the rightness or wrongness of it all doesn't really come into play.

Sam was right though, everything points to this being a werewolf and the autopsy reports only confirmed that suspicion. The more Dean researches, the more he is also beginning to think it may be more than one animal.

There's only two more nights to finish this and there's no time to get someone else in, no options but to do it themselves and Dean is nervous.

Fucking terrified.

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They left Hastings before first light, figuring it would take them a good six hours even with Dean behind the wheel. Dean pulled over at a truck stop after three hours of minimal talking, the pulsing rhythm of his rock music the only saving grace between awkward silence or awkward conversation.

Sam got back in the car clutching his cup of coffee and took a breath before his brother started the engine.

"Dean, I…I called Sarah yesterday." He held his breath and waited.

"Why the hell would you do that Sam?"

"I'm worried about you and…and I just thought…"

"No Sam you didn't think at all. In case you're not sure, I don't want to talk about what happened on that job and you had no right to go behind my back to find out from some, some stranger. So last night, when you asked me what happened, you already knew?"

"No, no Dean that not why I called her. We didn't…Sarah agreed that you'd tell me when you were ready, she just told me what happened to her and how she's dealing with it and…and that you saved her. I just don't know…I don't know how to help you Dean and I thought she might help because I…" Sam closes his eyes against the unwelcome tears that he won't shed because he knows he already looks weak enough in his brother's eyes. "…I don't know what to do."

"Well here's a thought Sam, how about you just stick to not fucking this job up instead of worrying about our past screw ups okay? I don't need you trying to fix me and if you can't work out how to deal with me then maybe you shouldn't be here at all but I need to know before we start this job Sam. I need to know now if you're gonna drop this."

The tremor Sam feels through his body isn't from any impending seizure but from the physical struggle between the anguish he feels and the unemotional appearance he knows he has to provide. "W…won't bring it up again."

Even the music can't penetrate the tension between them over the next few hours and Dean wonders how much Sarah divulged but he won't ask. The topic is now taboo and it's a relief but at the same time he can still taste the bile that rose unbidden in his throat as he waited for Sam's answer. He can still hear the despondent cry somewhere in his head as he pushes his brother even further away.

It was better this way.

He doesn't know how to go back so it has to be.

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"You gonna be okay carrying that?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

"Make sure you got extra bullets on you and use the ankle holster as a spare."

"I have."

"Take the silver switchblade just in case…"

"Dean stop." Sam speaks gently knowing this whole situation is out of control and gaining momentum for his brother. "I…I know you're worried but you know we have to do this. I can do this."

"Yeah." Dean shuts his mouth before any more words come out. How can he admit to Sam that just being this close to the trees and forest and snow drifts is playing tricks with his mind? Making him sweat hot and cold, fear and panic. How is he going to look out for his brother when his own thoughts are shifting and sliding between past and present?

"You…okay?"

"Yeah."

Sam's not sure whether it's the silence that only lasts for a second or two before his brother answers but he knows for sure Dean's anything but okay.

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He drops back slightly forcing Sam to take point so he can keep watch as they head out along the trail towards a group of weekend cabins. They had filled up with gas when they got into town and found out a family of four had hiked in several days ago not worried about the warnings as they'd been coming here for years.

Sam paused ahead as he came to a split in the trail. "Which way?"

Dean quickly unfolded the map from his pocket and pointed. "Head south and it should be about two hours in."

"Do you think they're okay?"

"Maybe, we'll check on them first. The wilderness group were found about another hour in – same direction, so we can just keep going if we don't find anything."

"Yeah, I guess they must know the area pretty well by the sounds if they've been coming here for a while. They've g…got kids with them Dean."

"I know."

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He knows they're flashbacks but it doesn't make them any less real which is absurd. How can he know and still be so afraid. How can he be so afraid and not fall down in a heap in the melting snow beneath his feet.

There's movement to the side and it's just snow falling from the trees but he's already drawn his gun before he even thinks about it.

"Dean?"

He sees that Sam has now also drawn his weapon and realises how much his brother trusts his instincts. The weight of this responsibility feels like it's going to crush him.

"Yeah. False alarm. C'mon let's keep moving, we need to be organised before sundown."

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They reached a group of three cabins just before four in the afternoon as the temperature was starting to drop and the sun was casting low shadows. It was eerily quiet but smoke was coming from one of the chimney flutes which made each boy breathe a sigh of relief as they knocked on the solid wooden door.

"Well this is a surprise." A solid, bearded man, nearly as tall as Sam filled the doorway with a questioning look. "We don't normally get visitors out this way."

Dean nodded holding his hand out. "Dean Wellington and this is my brother Sam. Just thought we'd check in with you, make sure you're okay before we bunked down for the night."

"Adrian Banner." He shook Dean's hand and then Sam's and stepped back. "C'mon in and meet the family although you might want to get your fire stoked up before nightfall. You staying in one of Henry's cabins, he owns both the other two across the clearing?"

"Yeah, yeah that's right. We're just gonna stay overnight then hike another hour or two into Black Creek."

"Appreciate the courtesy but why wouldn't we be alright?"

"Well we're actually on contract with the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources and we're looking into the wolf activity in the area. They've asked us to issue warnings to any folks out this way until the animals responsible for the recent deaths are trapped and relocated."

Dean followed the man into the warmth of the cabin with Sam behind, the heat and aroma suffusing his senses after walking for hours in the icy coldness.

"My wife Colleen and my children Michael and Maria. This is Sam and Dean." A boy about ten and a girl several years younger smiled back from their place on a rug beside the fire, paper and pencils scattered around them.

"Please sit down and have some coffee."

"No but thank you, we really should be getting ourselves organised for the night." Dean smiled at the woman. "It's probably best if you guys stay inside after dark. These wolves are behaving a little odd so make sure you keep your doors locked and your rifle loaded. Take a couple of these as well." Dean handed Col some silver bullets. "They're um…special design to take wolves down fast. We're trialling them."

Col placed the bullets on the table and looked at Dean suspiciously. "Since when didn't lead work on wolves?"

Sam interjected, "It's j…just a trial but we'd appreciate any additional data on their success. Trust me we've seen them in action. Of course they're only for self protection but…but you need to be careful."

"Look I understand you're just doing your job but this is wolf territory. We've been coming here all our lives and we've never had any trouble so I doubt we'll need them. You just have to show some respect, these animals are just surviving and don't like to be threatened but otherwise they keep to themselves."

"Well the body count at the moment would indicate otherwise so be careful. These animals are behaving differently and that's what we're here to look into, hopefully we'll have it sorted in the next day or two."

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The boys walked across the clearing to the furthest cabin where Dean picked the lock that secured the chain around the wooden beam across the door and they entered a small but comfortable living area. They stacked their gear against the wall and Dean started lighting the kerosene lamps in the semi darkness.

"I saw a wood pile round the side, I'll go bring some in so we're good for the night." Sam didn't wait for an answer and headed out to the small tin shelter stacked with a small supply of cut logs. He paused and looked around in the descending darkness, the surrounding forest quiet and looming. At least the family were alright, he had dreaded finding bodies.

A twig snapped behind him and he grabbed at a piece of timber as he spun around, realising he had no weapon on him.

"It's just us silly, did we scare you?" The little girl giggled, her voice so musical and happy Sam couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, y..you did. You guys are pretty stealthy for your age but what are you doing out here by yourselves?"

"I'm old enough to hunt y'know so I'm protecting both of us." Michael held up the rifle proudly.

"Mommy baked and thought you might like some." The girl held out a cloth covered plate which Sam took.

"Tell you mom thanks. How 'bout I walk you back? Just to k…keep you company."

"Okay 'cause we don't see a lot of people you know." She looked at her brother.

"Yeah, guess that's okay." Michael nodded.

The little girl continued chatting as they walked back and to Sam's surprise she held his empty hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Her hand felt so tiny in his and he was almost overwhelmed by the simple gesture of trust and innocence.

"You talk funny Sam."

"Maria…" Michael started to cut her off.

"No it's okay Michael. I…I got hurt and I talk funny now, it's called a stutter."

"Does it hurt?"

"No it doesn't hurt, it only tickles a bit." Sam smiled as she giggled with her hand over her mouth.

He watched as they walked up the wooden steps and waved as they disappeared inside. As he headed back he saw the dim glow from the opened wooden door and saw the silhouette of his brother framed in the doorway.

"Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Where the hell you been?"

Sam realised his brother was holding a rifle. "Sorry, the kids came over with food and I…I wanted to make sure they g…got back okay."

"Don't you go off like that, not on a fucking job like this. Not out here okay."

Sam nodded, turning away as he realised what he'd done. "M'sorry."

"Look Sam, I didn't mean to yell. Just, we gotta be careful on this one okay."

"Yeah."

They got the wood inside and stoked the fire up, eating quickly then unloading weapons for the night hunt.

"Okay there's a pattern where the victims have been found." Dean traced his finger between the red ink marks on the map so his brother can see. "The bodies have been concentrated in this triangle so I'm guessing our killer maybe comes from one of the neighbouring towns, easy to keep tabs on people coming and going. Last night I also went back over the last twelve months and there's been other disappearances that coincide with the lunar cycle and I'm guessing they're related but no bodies have ever turned up."

"It's a big area, pretty easy to hide bodies. Y'think there's more than one werewolf, m…maybe a pack?"

"Yeah, I'm beginning to think so. I mean a pack is almost unheard of but a pair of them seems likely, the way they're going for multiple victims. The autopsy mentioned distinct teeth marks from one large and one smaller animal."

"Male and female maybe. God they could be some couple living normal in the middle of town like everyone else except for a coupla days each month. It's not fair, they probably had normal lives until…"

"Well they're not normal now. You need to remember what they are Sam, you start second guessing and it's gonna get you killed."

"I…I know. I'm just saying…"

"Get some rest, we'll head out in a coupla hours."

Dean winced as he turned from his brother and the look of hurt on his face. It scared him in a way, that he could be so callous, even if it was only to protect them both.

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Sam lay on the camping bed, arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Waiting. He couldn't sleep and Dean was restlessly checking over the map by the lamp light at the table.

A high pitched scream had them both alert and clutching flashlights and rifles in unison as they ran for the door.

"Dean, that's Maria."

They could see the small girl running across the clearing towards them as she continued to scream hysterically, running directly past Dean and clutching at Sam's legs.

"Hey, hey it's okay I've got you."

Sam easily picked the child up onto his left hip, as he braced the rifle under his right arm in case he needed to fire.

"Maria what happened? C…can you tell us what happened, where's Michael and your parents?"

"Something came in growling and Michael carried me out and he was with me but…MICHAEL."

"Sshhh…we'll look for Michael but you need to be very quiet."

"Sam take her inside and lock the doors, I'll…"

"No, no don't lock me inside. They got inside and hurt mommy. I won't stay inside." The little girl started to struggle in Sam's grip.

"Okay we'll all stay together but you can't make a sound okay?" Sam placed the girl on the ground and put her hand near his jacket pocket. "You hold onto this and s…stay with me. If I tell you to run or get down you need to do exactly what I say. C…can you do that?"

She nodded, the moonlight glistening off the tears still streaming down her face. Sam looked at Dean and shrugged helplessly.

"Okay Sam, we stay together. We need to check the cabin so stay alert."

They headed up the cabin stairs and Dean pushed open the door which already stood ajar, the lamps were still alight. They stepped inside and he held his hand up to Sam signalling for him to wait there with the girl. Sam nodded understanding and moved the girl to the side of the room standing protectively in front of her with rifle at the ready.

Sam glanced down at the ground behind Dean and then met his brother's eyes shaking his head. As Dean turned he saw the blood trail that Sam had indicated and took a breath.

Satisfied his brother and the girl were safe for the moment, Dean slowly advanced into the back rooms. The cabin was set up the same as theirs with an open living area and kitchen, two bedrooms and a primitive bathroom. The first two rooms were empty and he tensed as he came up to the larger of the two bedrooms, preparing himself for the worst.

The door was half open and he pushed it wide, eyes scanning for movement but finding none. Blood covered both sides of the bed and marked the wooden floorboards as well but there were no bodies.

"Nothing but blood." He whispered to Sam as they walked back outside.

Sam knelt down and put an arm around the little girl. "Maria, do you know which way Michael went after he took you outside?"

She shook her head, her mouth quivering as she tried not to cry. "I don't know. He was still with me when we got to the big tree over there, maybe he went down to the river. We play there, maybe he went there to hide."

"That's great Maria, you're being really b…brave."

"I want my mommy." Tears ran silently down her face as Sam scooped her up.

"I know sweetie."

Dean watched as his brother comforted the girl and wondered if any of her family was still alive. He saw the unshed tears in Sam's eyes and knew his brother was thinking the same thing.

"Worth a shot, he might have tried to lead this thing away from his sister? Maybe he's hiding Dean, we have to check."

"Yeah c'mon. You okay with her?"

"Yeah, we're g…good."

The reached the river and Sam felt Maria shiver in his arms as the temperature dropped, realising for the first time she was only dressed in flannel pyjamas and slippers with no coat. He put her on the ground and started to unzip his jacket when they heard the yell coming from upstream.

"Michael, that's Michael." Maria pulled at Sam's arm starting to move toward the sound.

"I'll go ahead and find him okay. Follow me Sam and be careful." Dean took off at a run towards the sound and Sam picked Maria up and moved as fast as he could, balancing girl, flashlight and rifle.

"Be careful Dean." He called to his brother's back.

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The flashlight only showed so much, not enough to stop him clumsily stumbling and weaving as he ran, oblivious to the strains on his ankles and knees. The boy was somehow still alive but he knew there wouldn't be much time to keep it that way. He knew this could probably be a trap, a game of cat and mouse. Werewolves were smart that way but there was no choice.

There was one last yell not too far ahead and then silence. He slowed his pace, turned the flashlight off and crept forward. He could see his breath in the moonlight, could feel the dampness seep through his clothes and tried not to shiver. Tried not to think about teeth sinking into his skin and being held down because he knew he couldn't afford to lose focus now. He had to stay in the present.

Movement up ahead and he froze. It was just the boy, hurt and scared but Dean still waited to make sure. He turned full circle scanning the darkness within the darkness but there were no signs of anything, just him and the boy.

He moved silently up beside the stumbling figure and stepped out beside him, eyes still scanning every which way as the flashlight cut through the night.

"Michael."

"No, stay away." The boy jumped and started to move away.

"Michael it's okay. It's Dean, remember? I met you at the cabin."

The boy turned around to face him. "I remember."

Dean moved forward slowly, anticipating an ambush, nerves twanging on edge as he glanced around both sides of the adjacent river. He was in full hunter mode but still wasn't prepared for the golden eyes that looked back at him from the boys face.

He inhaled sharply and hesitated.

It was the snarl that kicked his instincts back into gear as the boy lunged at him, teeth snapping and claws raking through the air as he fired and rolled away. He regained his feet fluently and crouched, weapon and light still trained on the small, still figure. Before he could reconcile what had just happened, something large crashed through the trees across the river and a chilling howl announced another attack.

He fired again but the shot went wide and he cursed as his cold hands moved sluggishly to reload as the animal plunged through the water. Trying not to be distracted by the larger animal and its closing proximity, Dean held the rifle steady and pulled the trigger. He was relieved when the werewolf fell just as it cleared the water near the fallen boy but as though it was spurred on by the sight of its dead kin it regained its feet and ran at him again.

Backing away as he reloaded, Dean saw the yellow eyes too close and fired just before his foot slipped and he went down hard on his back. Rolling instinctively, trying to clear his hands quickly to fire again he stopped when he realised he had hit the mark as the wolf changed before his eyes into Colleen Banner.

Panting and trembling he stood on shaky legs, still tense as the light wavered in his hand. Unable to stop staring at the now human bodies on the ground at his feet as though this would suddenly make some sense. No matter what they had become, snarling and snapping to tear him apart, all he could process was the sight before him of hard, cold death.

Mother and son both dead by his hand.

A shot rang out downstream followed in quick succession by another and he was running again, cold water soaking his jeans as he got too close to the water's edge. He didn't notice his blood running cold through his veins or snaking across his skin where the flesh had been opened as he ran unaware of the sharp branches and thorny underbrush that flanked the river.

He didn't notice anything when his mind was clouded with fear and panic and screaming because he'd left his brother behind again.

_tbc…_


	10. Chapter 10

**What doesn't kill you…**

…**sometimes makes you wish it had.**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural.

**Chapter 10**

Dean came to a sudden bone jarring halt at the sight before him and then he froze in place as his heart seemed to somehow soar and break in half at the same time.

Sam was on his knees in the few inches of shallow water where the riverbed and bank met in a jumble of rocks and weeds. A discarded flashlight cast uneven shadows across his brother's face but did nothing to hide the utter devastation and disbelief.

Sam was alive.

It was surreal like déjà vu and Dean could feel the hurt he saw in front of him because he had just lived through this moment. He had just seen this and felt this and he almost didn't care anymore because his brother was the one still breathing. A little girl lay dead, clutched in his brother's arms but all he could feel now was relief.

Sam was alive.

There wasn't any warning. It didn't start small like the first few raindrops that made you run for cover or prepare yourself at least to be caught in the icy deluge.

It just happened.

One minute Dean thought he had lost his brother and then he hadn't. Then he was suddenly drowning in the whirlpool of emotions that had been shut away since he had hidden a part of himself in the dark to keep safe.

It was all he could do to just keep breathing.

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His feet seemed to step forward of their own accord and he moved slowly, making sure his light didn't shine directly on Sam's face as the hunter within him took over and moved the beam around checking for another body. Finding none.

"Sam."

The only movement was Sam as he gently rocked the body in his arms. As Dean drew closer he could see the blood, the open chest. Dead eyes.

"It's okay Sam. There was nothing else you could have done." Dean's voice cracked and he tightened his jaw, willed himself to keep control.

He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and felt a surge of strength, felt the connection that he had denied himself for so long, felt the anger and sadness and need to protect. He wanted to tell Sam that he was here, really here but the words failed him as his brother looked at him heartbroken and lost.

Suddenly afraid, suddenly aware of where they were, Dean bit back on the words. He moved his hand away.

"I…I k…killed her." Sam brushed a strand of hair from the girls face as tears streamed down his face. "She held m…my hand Dean, trusted me and I shot her."

"She was already lost Sam. It was too late for her, for her family. Not your fault."

"Dean…can't, can't do this."

"C'mon, we need to get out of here." Dean gently lifted the girl from his brother's arms and placed her on the bank before retrieving the discarded rifle. His brother hadn't moved and Dean gripped and steadied Sam by the arm until he stood. They were too exposed standing here like this, especially when he couldn't figure out what was happening.

"Are you hurt?" Dean held his breathe a little even though he couldn't see any sign of blood or injury in the dim glow of the flashlight. Or teeth marks.

"Sam?"

Not even raising his eyes, Sam shook his head distracted.

"Listen to me okay. I need to know if there was another wolf, I heard two shots Sam. Was there another one?" Dean spoke gently not sure if he was getting through until his brother shook his head again.

"N…no."

"I don't like this, we need to get back to the cabin. I'm not sure…"

"Where's Michael?"

Dean breathed and willed himself to speak. "Dead. His mother too. They both turned and I…"

Sam met his eyes briefly and nodded understanding.

"Sam you need to take this in case." Dean held the rifle out after checking there were still unspent rounds loaded. "I don't know where Adrian is but we need to be ready. I don't think this is over."

Sam hesitated long enough for Dean to wonder whether he was going to accept the weapon. Dean paused before he released the cold metal to his brother's grip, hating the fact he knew Sam wasn't up for this right now. Not really sure if he was either.

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It was like his head was too full and he focused on trying to breathe. He had to push this fear aside for the moment until they were safe. It was hard to concentrate though, especially when it was so easy to imagine her breath on the back of his neck as they moved through the forest. He didn't doubt for a second the Skrabens were dead - it was just that the fear was almost like a muscle memory.

Except with teeth and claws.

Sam walked beside him silently as they made their way back, flashlights cutting small paths in the seemingly endless darkness that surrounded them. Even with the yellow glow of the full moon it seemed as though the night was creeping closer, trying to reclaim what their light had taken. Dean could feel his heart pumping too fast as they finally reached the clearing without incident.

Too easy.

He motioned for Sam to go ahead up the wooden stairs as he trained his rifle on the emptiness behind them and he held his breathe until they were both inside with the door secured behind them. A quick sweep of their cabin and they both lowered their weapons.

"You're b..bleeding, let me check?"

"What?" Dean looked blankly then followed his brother's gaze to the torn fabric of his jacket.

"Your face and arms are cut up."

"Just scratches Sam they're fine."

Sam frowned but didn't argue, just nodded his head.

The immediate threat was over and Dean watched as his brother walked to the table and painstakingly unloaded the rifle, checking the cartridge before he began reloading. Just like their dad had always taught them, just like Dean had shown him. He could see Sam's movements were concentrated on the task, his face drawn.

"How…how long you think they were t…turned?"

"I don't know Sam but this whole thing feels different." Dean scooped the weapons bag up and placed it on the table as he came to stand beside his brother. "It's like we were set up and I get that, we've seen werewolves before that embrace what they've become but this is screwed up. I mean wouldn't the parents try and protect their young? It's like maybe it was a test but still, the mother only came after I fired."

What if it w…wasn't a test?"

Sam's whispered question made Dean's blood run cold as only a couple of options came to mind.

"They were just too young to plan this unless they wanted to prove themselves or, or they've done it before. If that's what happened, then it's pretty likely mom and dad were on another hunt. God this is so screwed up." Dean ran a hand across his face.

"We have to find Adrian."

"Yeah I know." Dean checked his watch. It was just after one am, still plenty of night left. "Sam you can't go back out there if you're not up for this."

"You're not doing this alone and I'm fine. You know we have to finish this, we c…can't let it happen again." Sam took a breath and risked a glance at his brother. "I know this is…is h…hard for you too okay. "

Suddenly uncomfortable with the way the conversation was heading, Dean unfolded the map and laid it out on the table besides Sam's rifle. "The mother came at me from this direction across the river and it only took her a few minutes from when I first fired until she appeared. I know they move fast but she couldn't have been more than a mile or so away."

"Okay, we start there."

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They walked back out into the night shoulder to shoulder, both afraid of what they might find. Neither able to overcome the darkness that had somehow seeped into their hearts as they struggled to get past the lives that had been destroyed here. Neither able nor willing to communicate their own fears.

As they came up to the river, the underbrush closest to Sam rustled in the near silence of the night. As his brother swung around to face the threat, Dean swept the flashlight around in a wide arc to make sure they weren't blindsided.

"Anything?"

"No. You?"

"Nothing big."

"Okay we keep moving."

"Dean, y…you think they've infected anyone else?"

"I don't know but we've got to be ready for anything. I never thought we'd come across a pack but you were right about that Sam."

Sam glanced briefly at his brother's half shadowed face and silently wished to God he had been wrong.

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They had come across five hunting huts within half a mile of each other after they had crossed the river. Five bursts of adrenaline later and they were still no closer to finding Adrian.

This small wooden structure looked rundown and unused with weeds and undergrowth reclaiming any cleared ground that might have once been. As they warily circled around the shack, Sam tapped his bother's arm and pointed along the ground towards the side wall.

"Something's been coming and going enough to wear a path."

As Dean squinted in the moonlight he saw the trail where the weeds and foliage had been flattened in a narrow line that disappeared in the darkness.

They slowly made their way through the forest until they had scoped the whole perimeter of the building. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, they advanced silently along the worn path.

In the lead, Dean was the first to notice the side door hidden in the shadows of the larger plants that had sprung up amidst the tangled undergrowth. There was no latch and he signalled his intention to Sam who nodded and readied his weapon.

On a silent count of three, Dean kicked the door open and Sam moved through with flashlight and gun. Dean moved past his brother in an instant, covering the other half of the room so they were almost back to back.

"Oh God." Sam swallowed hard to keep his stomach contents where they were as the stench hit him like a punch.

"Jesus." Dean turned his face so his mouth and nose were pressed against his raised arm. His flashlight landed on the gruesome remains of several bodies piled haphazardly against the wall and he was suddenly back in the motel room somewhere near Placerville, staring down at blue eyes.

He remembered those eyes that seemed to look straight through who he was, what he was pretending to be and they saw the truth. The dead girl with the sky blue eyes and ruined mouth whose guts were dripping down the floral quilt could see what he had done. He wondered if it would sound funny if he said it out loud.

Maybe if he started laughing, Sammy might get back what he'd lost and everything would be alright again. He really needed his brother back because Sam was the only one who knew that sometimes when Dean laughed, he was really screaming.

He jumps and steps back as he feels a hand on his shoulder, heart hammering in his chest he knows Sam is talking to him but he can't look away from the carnage.

"Dean c'mon." Sam places a hesitant hand on his brother's shoulder when he realises his words aren't getting through. He withdraws his hand quickly when Dean jumps, watching as his older sibling still stares at the motionless bodies.

"Dean?" The word comes out more like a whisper. "Please."

Sam's fear cuts though the fog, brings him from past nightmares to present ones. It's hard to tell sometimes if he's trying to escape from where he's been or where he is because he always seems to end up in the same place. In the end he's always lost and surrounded by death.

"Yeah." He tears his eyes away and remembers with dread where they are and what they're doing. In the middle of a hunt and he's losing it. "Let's get out of here."

He knows Sam is worried, can hear the fear in Sam's short breaths and doesn't blame him. He's a little worried himself.

They turn, weapons still locked and loaded because they both know they are on dangerous ground. The kills might not be fresh but this place belongs to what they are hunting and it can't be underestimated.

Dean slowly moves back out the door he had kicked open, pausing to listen for any sign something is out there even in the approaching dawn. He takes a step and glances back to see his brother is standing still in the middle of the room.

"Sam?"

"I thought I heard…" He looks at his brother as he hears it again, relieved when Dean comes back inside, head cocked to the side as his eyes dart around.

"It's coming from underneath us somewhere."

"Over here." Dean sees a rectangular cut in the floorboards and pries his finger in the space until he can get enough leverage to lift. The section moves easily and he folds it back, exposing a small staircase into darkness.

Their flashlights do little to reveal much apart from a dirt covered floor at the bottom but before they can even decide on a course of action, a shrill and clearly terrified voice startles them into motion.

"No, no, please leave me alone. I'll do anything, please just let me go."

"Sam stay there." Dean puts the flashlight in his mouth and starts to descend the ladder, gun trained on the floor below.

"Be careful." Sam sweeps his light around the room, fearful of being jumped. Knowing if he gets taken out, Dean will be trapped down there.

Dean stops about half way down and leans his body back against the wooden rungs so he can grip the flashlight. He directs the beam on the floor below and then slowly sweeps out to the furthest corner. As he moves the light along the wall a sob breaks the silence as a huddled form is bathed in the dim glow but he does a full sweep before he speaks or moves.

"Just one Sam, looks like she's tied to the wall. I'm gonna check it out."

"She c…could already be turned Dean."

"I know."

Sam waits nervously for as long as he can before calling out again to check on his brother, surprised when the answering voice is closer than he anticipated as he hears the ladder creaking.

"One girl still alive, Lucy, and I can't see any bite marks but I think we're gonna have to wait to be sure. She's either pretty fucking scared or she's got my vote for an academy award. Looks like her sister wasn't so lucky." Dean glanced up before continuing as he climbed out and stood beside his brother. "Heart ripped out right in front of her, or so I'm told."

"So she's either the next victim or m…maybe she's already a victim and made the kill herself."

"She's got no blood on her but if she's been turned recently we won't know for sure until tomorrow night."

"You have no idea what you're dealing with here hunter."

The low voice got an instant reaction from both boys but it was too late to offer any escape or defence as Sam felt an arm snake around his throat and lift so his toes were barely scraping the ground. Something hard struck the side of his head and he realised vaguely he was no longer holding either the weapon or the light.

"I am third generation, the lore you know doesn't even come close to me."

Dean gripped his own flashlight and gun as he watched Adrian's arm tighten, willing his hands not to shake as he heard Sam's laboured breathing and watched as his brother struggled in vain.

"Let him go and I'll let you walk away."

The laugh was bitter. "You would as soon die than let my kind live."

"You have my word." Dean's mouth was dry as he could see Sam's eyes begin to roll back in his head.

"I would rather have you turned."

The gunshot came as a big surprise and Dean was thrown back against the wall but didn't register what exactly had happened until he felt the pain blossom and then fully ignite. It was all he could do to keep his eyes focused on his brother as he slid down the wall.

Sam jumps reflexively as the gun goes off next to his head, the sound momentarily stunning him further. His vision greying around the edges from lack of oxygen, Sam suddenly tries to cry out and wrench free as he sees Dean sink to the floor. He falls in a heap when he is released without warning.

"Go down the ladder and don't try anything or the next bullet will be through your brother's skull. I'd much prefer to keep him alive for the moment but don't test me. I can see in the dark and move ten times faster than you." Adrian gave a low laugh, "He'll be either shot or bitten before you can take two steps."

"T…take me but let him go." Sam can't feel the press of metal against his back and knows his handgun is gone. He has to either go for his knife or crawl forward and hope the gun is still in Dean's ankle holster.

"Well actually he's gonna come in handy alive. You can't imagine how strong the hunger is when we run with the moon in our veins. The smell of warm blood, spilling out with a heartbeat is like a drug and it's everything."

Sam slowly edges a little closer to his brother but curls up in pain when a boot strikes his abdomen. He tries to grab the boot and twist it at the last minute until he's slammed back in the dirt and then dragged along the floor in the darkness.

"Climb down now." Sam hears the gun cocked and sees Adrian in the glow of the discarded lights, his hand in Dean's hair as the gun muzzle presses to his brother's head. One of the flashlights is suddenly kicked across the floor within his reach.

"Okay, okay." Sam finds the ladder and begins to climb down. "Dean…D…Dean?" He fights back the emotion and feeling of hopelessness and just prays that his brother is aware of what's going on. As his feet hit the dirt floor he hears a noise at the top and realises just in time that his brother is being pushed down the opening. Sam grabs Dean's torso as it drops and quickly drags him away to the wall, trying to ignore for the moment the gasps of pain he can hear in the darkness.

He tenses on hearing an engine come to life but two dust covered bulbs suddenly illuminate the room in a stark light. The lights flicker briefly as the generator coughs then resumes a steady thrum in time for Sam to see Adrian hauling Lucy roughly to her feet. She starts whimpering then screaming.

"No! Leave her alone." Sam brow creases in surprise at how pleading his voice sounds. It really shouldn't surprise him considering the only option he has is to beg. Both his guns are gone and he can't check to see if Dean is still packing without broadcasting his intention.

Sam can't even speak when he sees Adrian bite down on the girl's neck, effectively giving her a death sentence. Adrian drops Lucy in the dirt where she screams and sobs, chains still binding her wrists to the wall as he disappears up the ladder without a word, the trapdoor closing on their only exit.

Sam sags briefly against the wall, not realising how drained he is until his knees buckle as he tries to crouch down next to his brother and he ends up on his side in the dirt. He sits up, still unsteady but certain in the knowledge that he should be doing something more than staring in horror at the growing bloodstain on his brother's shirt.

The sound of Lucy screaming recedes to background noise as he begins to comprehend that his brother is shot and bleeding on the ground in front of him.

Heart pumping so hard it hurts, Sam kneels up trying to breathe as the blood continues to soak through the ripped jacket and shirt on Dean's shoulder. He presses his hands to his forehead in frustration when he can't think what to do.

"Dean? Oh God, pl…please Dean?" Sam's instincts finally kick in and he knows he has to stop the bleeding and his hands start to shake as his confidence falters.

"Yeah. Fucking hurts." Dean's eyes squint open and he moans and grabs at his shoulder. Sam's hands twist around themselves so he doesn't do something stupid. "Pretty sure there's an exit wound so at least…no shrapnel."

Sam nods and gently locates the smaller wound out the back of the shoulder. It's bleeding but it looks small and clean**. **Sam finally shrugs out of his jacket and over shirt offering the latter with an outstretched arm. "Here Dean press this on and I can tie the sleeves like a tourniquet. Okay?"

He doesn't make a move until his brother nods and presses the bulk of the shirt against the damaged skin. Even as he wraps the sleeves around his brother's body and then ties them off at the back, Sam is careful as he moves. He's learnt with weeks of practice how to patch his brother up without getting too close.

He pauses with uncertainty as Dean's forehead comes to rest against his arm, surprised he's allowed to witness such vulnerability even under these circumstances. Eyes now burning, Sam resists the urge to just hold on to his brother, to think that this might really be Dean here with him. Not the shadow of a brother who's been pushing him away these past months.

"S'gonna be okay Dean." Sam shifts as he finishes securing the makeshift bandage and Dean slowly lifts his head. It looks like he's about to speak but his expression changes to horror in the blink of an eye.

Catching a blur of movement just as Dean calls his name in warning, Sam finds himself with one arm wrenched behind his back and forced upward until he thinks his shoulder is going be ripped from its socket. A thick arm wraps around Sam's neck in a vice as Adrian releases his wrist and throws Dean's gun on the floor.

"Two silver bullets Dean. Think you can make it out hunter?"

"We'll get out of here and kill you then hunt down the rest of your filth." Dean moves his weight forward as he tried to judge the distance to the gun on the ground between them. Trying to use the fresh burst of pain to sharpen his senses only to find his body isn't responding like he expected. Like he needed.

"I think I'm going to find that entertaining because see here's the thing…"

Dean was looking directly at his brother's face when Sam's eyes widened in shock and he cried out in pain. Even before Adrian's face became visible, blood dripping from his mouth and down his chin, it was plainly and terribly obvious what had just happened.

"No!" Dean lunged despite the fact that he wasn't capable. He landed short but crawled until he had the gun held and cocked and a wave of dizziness nearly floored him. Bracing one knee in the dirt for balance, he caught Sam's eyes and he couldn't look away.

The intensity of emotion he stares into brings on a sense of terror that has Dean inadvertently on the brink of flight or fight. When he recognises the fear that glimpses through the resignation and courage on Sam's face, he becomes a brother first and foremost. He'll fix this, he knows how to get things done.

It's his job.

"Dean, do it. Please." Sam's voice is little more than a rasp.

"Sam?"

"Your brother wants you to shoot him Dean, two for the price of one. I personally am banking on the fact that you won't be able to do it. Not yet anyway, not until he's all fangs and teeth at your neck."

"No." Dean trained the gun over Sam's shoulder, hoping the younger boy would pick up on his plan for a head shot seeing as he had no clear path to Adrian's heart. The kill shot would have to be step two.

"I just want to see what choices you make when the monster lives a little closer to home. After what you have done to me, this is poetic justice."

Sam is suddenly thrown directly at the gun and Dean drops it to the side and tries to brace himself for the pain as he moves to try and cushion his brother's fall. He thinks he's got it under control until Sam's shoulder connects with his bloodied one and then nothing hurts anymore.

_tbc…_

_a/n: Sorry for the delay and sorry if I don't reply to any reviews._

_lb._


	11. Chapter 11

**What doesn't kill you…**

…**sometimes makes you wish it had.**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural.

**Chapter 11**

Sam can't stop his body's momentum and although he partially succeeds in twisting away, he still doesn't manage to stop his brother's head slamming into the ground. Dean groans then lies still in the dirt.

The trapdoor in the ceiling is closed with a bang and there's just the three of them again.

Breathing harshly, Sam pushes himself up and fumbles with his brother's clothing until he can feel a steady pulse, until he can see the bleeding has slowed from the bullet wound beneath the makeshift bandage. Dean's face is pale, eyes rimmed with black and clothes stained with red and Sam thinks he hates those colours and everything they represent.

Death and blood.

There's more than enough blood already staining Dean's clothes to make Sam begin to worry about blood loss and shock.

Sam glances at his left hand and squeezes his eyes shut. Seeing the blood drip from his torn palm gives rise to the cold terror of certainty and for a second he can't deal with it. For a second he is in the dark and can't breathe.

He sits in the dirt and realises this is his last hunt. It's all over now, no more loose ends, no more saving people, no more anything. Sam wonders if this is how he'd feel if his head worked properly and the bitter laugh turns into a sob and gets stuck in his throat as he looks at Dean.

Dean.

He has to get Dean out first, make sure his brother is safe before…

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"Dean? C'mon man, p…please wake up."

"Maybe he's dead."

Sam looked across at the girl, fire flashing in his eyes before he understood she had said it like it was something good. Something final.

"No, he's still alive." Sam spoke calmly with his hand resting hesitantly on the pulse point on his brother's wrist."H…how are you holding up?"

"He bit me and he…" Her eyes drifted to the body of her sister.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Will you untie me?"

Sam tried to maintain eye contact but he faltered when he couldn't find the right words to help her make sense out of this. It didn't make a lot of sense to him and this was his reality - now her nightmare.

"Lucy…the guy that b...bit us is sick, infectious. We're probably sick n…now as well so we're gonna have to stay here for a day or so."

"What? No, no I can't. He's gonna kill us when he gets back. Please, let's just go to a hospital. We can get out and try and call for help and someone can come and get us or we can just walk out. We can just walk out, we can…"

"I'm sorry but we can't do that." He looks at Lucy and he sees the wild fear in her eyes and he knows she's terrified of this, of Adrian – of him. "I'm so sorry."

"Are we gonna die?" She sounds like a small child, not a twenty something girl who should be in the prime of her life. A life she would never know again. "Am I gonna die?"

"I'll…I'll look after you okay. We just need to stay here for tonight and then it'll all be over. Please, just try and get some rest. I know you're scared and hurt but we have to stay here." He smiled and turned away so she wouldn't see the lie written on his face or the tears in his eyes.

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"Dean? Hey you with me?" Sam speaks gently when he finally sees movement. Fingers curling, legs shifting after what seems like hours.

A low groan and Dean struggles to raise himself on one elbow until Sam hesitantly places a hand on his chest with enough force to still his efforts. "Yeah, what…?"

Sam can see the precise point in time when Dean remembers what happened and all he can do is look down, look away. Look anywhere but at the horrorfearpanic that has overwhelmed his brother's features.

"No, no, no…you're gonna be okay Sammy. You're gonna…I'll look after you okay. I'll fix this, I'm gonna find a way so don't worry."

Sam can't bring himself to even move when he feels desperate hands in his shirt, shaking him and trying to make him put his faith in the impossible. A part of him wants to just believe, for a bit longer at least, that everything will be alright but it's been a long time since he's believed in fairytales.

It's a little too late to start wishing for happily ever after now.

He watches as Dean takes his left wrist and examines the bite which pierced right through his hand, tearing the soft flesh of his palm in the process. Dean is almost reverent as he turns Sam's wrist to check the damage and Sam can't bear it any more and pulls his hand away.

"Stop. Dean just stop. There's n…nothing…"

"No Sam, don't you give up. Don't you dare tell me there's nothing I can do because I can't just…I won't let you…"

"You have to Dean, I don't w…want to hurt anyone." Sam steeled himself and looked his brother square in the eye. "I need to get you out of here before nightfall and then I'll come back here and…and finish things." He turned and glanced over at Lucy who sat rocking back and forth, now oblivious to everything else.

"I'm not going anywhere without you." Dean braced a hand on the rough wall behind him and got to his knees then stood, left shoulder propped against the wall. "And you are not gonna finish anything."

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Dean took a step from the wall and stopped as everything began to swim around before him. He had to keep going and they had to get out and kill Adrian and then they could concentrate on Sam and Lucy. Keep it simple, stick to the plan.

One step at a time.

"We need to get the trapdoor open." He took another step, another breath. "Sam, c'mon."

Risking a glance at his younger sibling, Dean stilled as he saw a glimpse of the boy that had grown into the man. Love and sadness and unshed tears as Sam smiled hesitant and knowingly at him.

Calm and resigned.

Dead man walking.

He saw Sam pause, almost unsure, before he felt the hand on his good shoulder pushing down, firm and insistent. "St...stay here Dean, I've already checked and there's something heavy on top of the door. I've just...just about got that piece of rebar out of the dirt in the ceiling and then I'll try and use it as a lever."

Clutching at Sam so he wouldn't fall as he lowered himself down, Dean was grateful when he felt the dirt underneath him and the wall at his back. He wasn't prepared for the desperate instinct that made his fingers claw into his brother's shirt again as panicked gripped him and he couldn't let go.

Would never just let go.

It's okay Dean."

"No."

Sam could see his brother struggling to come to terms and in that moment he hated their lives with such vehemence it took his breath away. Watching the toll of their legacy, the family business, and how much it had scarred his older brother was unbearable. Knowing he would soon be leaving his brother alone to deal with the aftermath made the fear a live thing that ran cold and jagged through his veins.

It made it all the more difficult when he felt like he had all of Dean here , right now with him. He could see his brother looking back at him and for the first time in months, Sam felt like Dean could actually see him like he was before. He had never blamed his brother for pushing him away, he understood that Dean had been hurt badly enough to keep everyone at a distance. The emotions knotted and tangled inside him until his own self doubt rose above it all and he clamped his mouth shut, knowing he could never explain to his brother how sorry he was.

"You've lost a lot of b…blood. Stay there and l...let me do this okay?" He gently removed Dean's hand, surprised at how cold he was to touch. Stripping off his jacket, Sam placed it around Dean's shoulders, shivering slightly as the cold air danced along his now exposed arms.

He waited for Dean to nod before half climbing up the back of the ladder to reach the exposed metal in the ceiling. It was slow going and Sam could feel the grit in his eyes and mouth long before the thin rod came anywhere near loose. He finally got enough movement in the compacted earth to begin drawing the rebar out only to find it attached to thin wires running further into the dirt.

Arms and back aching, Sam wearily climbed down and rolled his jeans up a little to pull the knife from the sheath on his lower leg. He swayed a little as he stood back up and then his back cramped as though it was going to snap and he braced his hands over his knees waiting for it to pass.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Just my…" Sam groaned as his muscles seemed to contract mercilessly before finally relaxing. "…back."

"Have a rest."

Sam glanced at his watch, surprise that it was already late morning was quickly followed by dread at what that meant. His brother looked shaky even sitting on the ground. He was running out of time and he had to get Dean out of there.

"No, I've nearly got it." Holding the knife handle in his mouth, Sam climbed back up the ladder and twisted around so he was facing the thin metal bar. Palming the knife in his right hand and stretching his body across as far as he could, the blade came into contact with the strands of wire and Sam began cutting.

Sam's arm trembled from the tension and he could feel the sting and pull of skin from his bitten hand as it gripped the wooden rung. Beads of sweat began to prickle his skin and he panted in relief as the first strand gave way without much resistance. Minutes later the job was done and he gratefully released the knife and let it fall carelessly to the floor as his hand cramped from the strain.

It seemed to take more effort than it should have for him to reach up and finally slide the metal rod free from the hard dirt. Eyes squinted closed and shaking loose grit from his face, Sam slowly pulled his body back to the ladder and slumped into the wood to ease the ache for a few precious seconds.

He could feel the blood rushing through his veins and the heartbeat pounding in his head. He gasps in surprise, startled to feel a hand on his leg.

"Answer me man. Sammy what's wrong?"

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Dean had watched as his brother had moved back up the ladder, knife in hand and stubborn determination on his face. He could see Sam was hurting but for maybe the first time in his life, Dean was shockingly aware that he might not be able to fix it this time.

Suddenly he relishes the pain that radiates from the wound in his shoulder. The physical pain makes him tremble and shake but it distracts him a little from the real pain of loss which is starting to creep and worm its way into his heart.

Sam had been changed when they had hunted the Skrabens. Whatever he had done so he could save Dean had taken a part of who he was and destroyed it. It had made him doubt himself and hold back when he would normally push his older brother with theories and arguments and logic. It had taken Dean a while to realise that Sam remembered how he used to be - the look that paints Sam's face when he can't do something he knows he's done a thousand times. Anger. Shame. Resignation.

He knows he's pushed his brother away and even though he knows he couldn't control it, the memory sits like contaminated lead in his gut. The poison of guilt seeps out slow and unrelenting. He doesn't care that Sam isn't the same as long as he's still got Sam.

And now he's going to lose that as well.

His brother groans in pain and Dean watches as the knife falls to the ground and Sam seems to reach up in slow motion and retrieve a thin iron rod. He sees the younger boy slump against the ladder and waits minutes for him to move. "Sam, you okay?"

"Sam!" Knowing his voice sounds hoarse, Dean raises it when his brother doesn't respond.

"Sammy!" Dean turned into the crumbling wall behind him and used his legs and good arm to gain his feet. There was definitely something wrong as Sam slumped into the ladder and drew ragged breaths and Dean staggered and stumbled to the ladder. One hand grasped a rung to steady himself as the room danced in and out of focus, he placed the other on the back of his brother's calf as he spoke again.

A jolt of surprise travelled Sam's body and Dean was relieved to hear his brother's voice.

"I…I'm okay. Just need to get this in place."

Dean looked up as Sam met his eyes, the concern bouncing back and forth between them remaining unspoken. His eyes moved across the room to where Lucy had been stirring and groaning. Sam had checked on her a few times and she seemed to have fallen asleep after sobbing on and off. Lucy regarded them as a part of the problem when Sam wouldn't let her go and she seemed to be in far too much shock to comprehend explanation or comfort.

Except now she was screaming

Dean automatically steadied his brother's arm as he all but slid down the ladder in response to the sound. He felt Sam's hand grip his upper arm as he hit the ground and they both turned towards the girl. He didn't fail to notice the heat that radiated from the younger boy's body.

Lucy was stretched out on the ground, her wrist chains taut as she strained against them. The screaming changed on a guttural note into something else entirely and Dean felt Sam's hand tense even as he did the same.

"It's too soon." Sam's whisper hung between them as they both took stock of the reality. He took a step towards the girl and found an arm across his chest.

"Sam you can't…there's nothing you can do." Dean couldn't stop the sound of hopelessness in his voice. "I don't know how to fix this Sammy."

"This is n…not your fault and there isn't a way Dean. I know it sucks but…but promise me you'll be okay. Tell me you'll get out of here and not try and hunt Adrian by yourself."

Dean remained silent and let himself be guided back to the wall opposite Lucy, unsure exactly how his brother was managing to hold him up. Sam's face was covered in sweat and his eyes looked glazed but his hold on Dean's arm was strong. Supporting himself against the wall, Dean watched as the girl's body began writhing more violently on the floor. Her screams and gasps of pain becoming more frequent and pronounced until he couldn't stand it and slid down the wall out of Sam's grasp.

He watched as Sam edged closer, soothing words and sounds having no impact on the now incoherent girl. Lucy seemed to recoil from Sam's gentle touch and lashed out, her wrists now a bloody mess from the unforgiving metal of the restraints.

The change was terrifying and mesmerising. Muscles seemed to expand and stretch before their eyes, limbs arching and clawing in agony as the laws of nature went unheeded.

It was gut wrenching to watch a life being destroyed.

It was too much to know you would have to watch this same torture happen to your brother.

They both jumped as Lucy snapped and snarled at the end of her chains fully transformed and wanting blood. Her eyes were already dead to the girl that she had been, long before Sam's shaking hand even pulled the trigger.

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Dean jumped as the retort echoed around their small prison and watched as his brother felt for a pulse then walked away and sat down in a corner of the room near Lucy's body. Gun discarded near the twisted girl who now looked like a sleeping rag doll.

Except for the bullet wound over her heart.

Sam's face is drawn as he wipes roughly at his eyes, shoulders slumped as Dean finally understands what he's watching and still he can't accept it. Sam won't look at him.

"Sam no."

"Dean…Dean I think I can feel it starting. It's too soon and I didn't get you out, I w…was supposed to get you out but now I need to keep you safe." Sam closed the iron cuff around his left hand and looked up at his brother, stricken when he found no restraint for his other hand. "You need the gun. I…I don't know how long this will hold."

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"You need to move away Dean. Pl…please don't let me hurt you. Please."

Sam seemed to shrink back against the wall, his tall frame and long limbs hunched and folded as though afraid of Dean's proximity. Dean could see how Sam was already breathing hard, sweat now darkening his thin t-shirt and trickling down his face. It didn't stop him stumbling towards the only person he couldn't lose.

"God Sammy…" It was here and now and happening and there was nothing he could do to stop it. All the research and knowledge and supernatural lore in the world at his fingertips and he couldn't do a damn fucking thing to save his brother.

"I don't know what to do. What am I supposed to do?" He ignored the fact that Sam tried to push him off and placed his hand down over his brother's heart. The gesture seemed to break Sam's will for a minute and he mirrored Dean's gesture, unable to speak.

Seconds later and Dean found himself pushed roughly away as Sam cried out, head tilted up and neck chords straining. "Get…the…gun."

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Even as he tried to break through Lucy's pain, give her some comfort, he could feel himself slipping. The heat and tremors were slowly becoming more intense as was his panic at knowing his brother was still trapped down here with him.

Too close. Not safe.

Sam was afraid of what he knew was going to happen to him soon. He couldn't deny that fear but it was lost in the sadness of his brother's anguish. When Dean placed a hand over his heart, he was overwhelmed by the simple gesture that said everything. Words choked in his throat as he pressed his own hand to Dean's chest and felt his brother's heartbeat underneath his open palm.

He hoped Dean understood he was saying goodbye because he knew he had run out of time. As the breath was forced from his lungs by the searing, tearing pain he just wanted it to be over.

"Get…the…gun."

The last thing he knows is the sound of his own scream.

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Dean moves through his own pain and pushes himself to his knees as the agony in his brother's voice cuts through his heart. Sam's body convulses again and again, and he watches in horror as muscles and limbs writhe and contort until his brother is lying almost prone.

Heels and hands claw at the ground and Dean can see the shackled wrist is already bleeding from being twisted and pulled. He can see the cruel torment being inflicted as Sam's body fights the changes. He can hear the desperation in Sam's raw voice even though his brother is incapable of speaking now.

Dean knows what his brother wants him to do.

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He's drifting somewhere in between the harsh reality of now and the illusion of before…before when things were okay.

Before when no one was thrashing or screaming like they were dying.

As if dying would be a better option.

He shakes his head trying to clear the unwanted thoughts, the truth, away and moves towards the metal rod that is lying in the dirt where it was dropped. Where Sam dropped it.

Before he chained himself up waiting to die.

Waiting for Dean to do the right thing.

Dean slowly bends down to retrieve the rebar and nearly face plants the ground, choosing to drop his knees in the dirt instead. He sways as waits for the spots to clear from his vision.

It's been hours. It's been fucking hours and he doesn't know how Sam can still scream when his voice is raw and hoarse and in so much pain.

It's been hours and Dean still doesn't know what to do. He just knows what he can't do.

It should be over. Dean should have made sure it was over and made sure his little brother didn't suffer. Not like this, it wasn't supposed to be like this.

He had tried to hold Sam, not caring if his brother changed. Tempting fate to take him down too. Maybe somehow Sam knew or maybe he couldn't bear the contact but each time Dean touched his burning skin he flinched away as though in pain. More pain.

Time is ebbing and flowing around him and he can't keep track, doesn't really care as long as it never reaches the point when he needs to walk out of here by himself. He knows with grim determination that he'll hunt Adrian down and watch with pleasure as the silver rips through skin and muscle. He's looking forward to it. After that though, he'll come back here where he belongs.

Dean used the rebar for balance while he finally got to his feet, eyes glancing over at his brother.

"Sammy. I'm here Sammy." Dean whispered the words around the ache in his throat that threatened to choke him. "Don't give up, please don't give up."

His hand brushed hair from Sam's fluttering eyelids as he took in the details of the pale face and bitten and bloodied lips. Sam's legs, arms and back still spasmed violently, stretching and twisting unnaturally and Dean wondered how much physical damage had already been done. His brother's eyes opened wide briefly but Dean saw nothing recognisable in their depths before they rolled back in his head and closed again.

"I can't Sammy. I'm so sorry but I can't. Not yet."

Dean moved towards the ladder, making sure he walked nowhere near the gun lying on the ground.

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Sam had effectively immobilised his arm to stop the bleeding and reduce movement around the bullet wound. However as he looked up at the trapdoor from beneath the ladder he worked out he was going to need both hands to get this done. Leaning back on the ladder he managed to get his left hand underneath Sam's blood soaked shirt and tugged at the makeshift bandage until it loosened, bringing with it a wave of fire as the circulation in his shoulder increased.

Pushing the rebar into the palm of his right hand and breathing through the pain when he closed his fingers, Dean stepped onto the ladder. As he neared the top, he flattened his hand out on the underside of the trapdoor and pushed until his arm shook, only managing to lift the wood a fraction.

Dean was trembling and he rested his forehead briefly on the wooden rung as he felt the sweat trickling down his face and back. Gripping the rebar in his left hand he wedged one end of the metal in the small gap where the trapdoor rested against the floor. Grunting with exertion he began pulling the metal down and slowly brought his right hand up to grip his left.

As he pulled down with all his weight he noticed that the leverage was working, whatever was on top of the door seemed to be shifting slowly as the wood began to lift. He could see two inches of light and he gritted his teeth against the molten lava that was spreading out from his damaged shoulder. He felt warmth against his skin but he was too intent on effort to register that he was bleeding again.

And then Sam screamed.

It wasn't as though Dean hadn't been hearing Sam's agonised cries in the background because each and every one was burnt into his brain but this was different. Somehow impossibly worse.

Dean fed more of the rod through the opening until he was sure it was secure enough to release without falling out. The weight from above actually working in his favour to wedge the door back down. Holding on with just his left hand now, Dean descended back to the floor and weaved his way over to his brother.

"Oh God."

He moved closer trying to understand what was happening if that was even possible because everything about this was screwed to hell and back. The changes shouldn't have happened until the moon had risen and even then, Sam should have changed like Lucy after an hour or two but he hadn't, not yet. Everything he had read on werewolves indicated that the first change was the most painful and usually took the longest but there was nothing that mentioned this and he was too injured himself to contemplate whether it was a good thing or not.

He only knew that the black blood now covering his brother's face scared the hell out of him. The last jolting spasm seemed to have frozen Sam in place, head tilted back and back arched so much Dean could see his ribs through the t-shirt. His body suddenly shook violently then collapsed back into the dirt, head lolling to the side. Blood dripping down and soaking into the ground.

"Sammy?"

Dean let his right arm drop limply in his lap as he kneeled again beside his brother. The blood ran from Sam's nose and ears and trickled from his mouth and eyes as well. This close, he could hear each laboured breath and see the rise and fall of Sam's chest as the very act of breathing, staying alive, seemed to be a mammoth effort.

And then it just stopped.

"No. No, not now. Don't you do this now dammit."

The silence and stillness only contributes to his panic but he doesn't for a moment contemplate this is it, over. Dean's own chest feels like it's wrapped in a band of steel and he can't expand his lungs to breathe, his heart is beating so hard he could probably see it through his skin if he looked. But he's too busy tilting Sam's head back, uncaring of the blood that now covers his own mouth and face as he breathes for his brother.

He pounds hard on the broad still chest, fear and desperation making the hits pitiless as he counts the beat of life out loud in a strangled voice. He keeps going for minutes, hours, maybe days until his right arm finally goes numb and he half falls over the still warm body briefly before he tries to continue with one arm.

He can't though.

Body shivering and he can't coordinate his hand or his thoughts and as his adrenaline seeps away, the wall of pain and grief hit him. Dean starts to drown as the sobs wrack through him, over him and then sweep him away.

_tbc…_


	12. Chapter 12

**What doesn't kill you…**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural.

_a/n: I have been kept afloat as I wrote this story by the following people, some who always seem to give their time to motivate others. I don't beg for reviews nor do I socialise well at times but seeing these names in my Inbox makes me smile…a lot!_

_**deangirl1, dimensions-in-space, apieceofcake, Maz101, Vanessa Sgroi, Madebyme **__and __Zatnikatel, zuimar, ukfan101, the tribble master, DeanBeanWinchester, riquitv, masondixon, magohair, shelby02, Mokibobolink, supernaturalsammy67, Ghostwriter, Naed, Ster1_

_Enough of the mushiness…and on with the angst!!_

_lb._

**Chapter 12**

It's much easier to cope with grief when your hands are busy. Just keep moving because the last thing you want is to stop and have time to acknowledge reality even though a part of you knows it's waiting defiantly in the shadows to catch you unaware.

You can always run but you can't hide. Although Dean Winchester was never really one to fall within the parameters of any lame cliché, especially when it came to his brother.

Dean's body was past the point of collapse when he came around but he was too broken to understand the signs of exhaustion and even if he had, it would have changed little. No idea how long it had been since he had passed out except that his brother's body was still warm, Dean sat defiantly, desperately, waiting to wake up from the nightmare.

He had always crossed lines when it came to Sam. Except this time there were no lines only impenetrable walls, reinforced with steel.

Cold hard truth.

Slow and deliberate, Dean started wiping the blood away from Sam's face with the sleeve of his shirt. His shoulder was stiff and tendrils of pain weaved through his body with every movement but he couldn't bear to see the evidence of his brother's struggle and pain any longer.

_He's not moving._

His eyes moved repeatedly across the still body until they stopped on the shackled wrist and suddenly he had to get that off.

_He's not breathing._

Sam shouldn't be tied up like some animal.

_Dead animal._

He had to crawl to the other side of the room to get Sam's knife because he couldn't find his own. The end of the knife only just fitted into the lock on the rusted shackle but he couldn't get it to twist or move.

_Sam wasn't moving anymore_.

By the time it took him to release the lock, his fingers were bloody and numb.

_Just like Sam._

Holding Sam's hand carefully, he let the restraint fall to the floor as he wiped the black blood from the open wound on his palm. He placed his brother's hand over his chest as he sat and stared at the gun on the ground, a terrible ache in his heart and revenge beginning to consume his mind.

Not at all expecting the hand he was holding to twitch.

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Dean gasped in shock, the fragment of his brain that was still rational telling him that this was just nerves endings firing and nothing more. The other part of him, the grieving desperate brother, reached a shaking hand out towards Sam's chest.

And felt a heartbeat.

He scrambled up and felt again and it was still there, still beating softly. Hand under his brother's nose he could only just feel the shallow exhale of air as Sam breathed on his own. But it was there and it was real.

_Sam was breathing._

_Sam was breathing._

He made a noise that was supposed to be his brother's name except it sounded like a wretched plea, as though he was too afraid to break the silence and shatter the illusion.

"Sam?" He brushed the sweat soaked hair from his brother's forehead.

All his life he had held on to the belief that seeing was believing but as much as he wanted this to be real, as much as he clung on to this hope with a white knuckled grip, there was still a niggling doubt. He didn't want to voice it or acknowledge it but what if Sam had been changed? What if it wasn't really Sammy that woke up?

A part of Sam had already been lost and a piece of his own heart had withered and died with the knowledge that if he had done something, anything differently, his brother might still be okay. Still be whole. The clarity of hindsight only twisted the knife deeper even though Dean was well aware the odds were always stacked against them.

He had to hope, have a little faith this time.

_Sam moved._

Dean's heart suddenly seemed to take up residence halfway up his throat, almost cutting off his airways as he eased himself back down by his brother's side. Sam's hand lifted off the ground again as his head turned a little to the side. The movement elicited a hoarse sound of pain and Dean moved his hand to Sam's shoulder hoping to alert the younger boy that he wasn't alone.

It took nearly another hour before Sam's eyelids began their struggle to open and when they finally won out, the eyes beneath were dark and unfocused.

"Sam can you hear me? Sammy?"

Dean watched as his brother's head slowly turned towards him, relieved he was getting some response but at the same time alarmed at the amount of pain contained in the accompanying groan.

"You're gonna be okay Sam, I'll get you out of here. Just…just rest a bit and then we're gonna get out of here."

Sam's eyes looked straight at him but all Dean saw in them was pain and he began to wonder how much damage the lupine blood had done. After only minutes, Sam's eyelids drifted closed again as though he had never been there at all.

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The pain is alive and it blisters and burns endlessly through his bones and skin, constantly devouring, quick heat like wildfire. It goes on for a lifetime and he gets lost in the flames as he screams without words or understanding.

As the fire begins to recede he can't distinguish the relief at first, hidden beneath the memory of searing heat and confusion. Phantom pain lingering from the intensity is still too much except now there's something else on the edge of his consciousness. Something he is drawn to like a moth to the flame, incomprehensible but irresistible.

Familiar.

_Sammy._

Whispered but somehow penetrating the maelstrom in his mind.

Sam clings to the whisper unaware his body has tried to move towards the sound.

Awareness of something beyond the pain and fire is enough for now and all he can manage.

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It was hard to move away but things had changed now, there was more at stake than just his own life if Adrian returned and he was unprepared.

Dean struggled back up the ladder which seemed to have become at least twice as high as he remembered. Almost surprised to hear his own laboured breathing and grunts of exertion, he focused instead on placing one foot after another until he had reached the piece of iron still wedged in the trapdoor.

Once more gripping the cold metal in his hand, he began to force his body weight against the resistance. The movement was barely perceptible but it was there and after all but hanging off the end of the rebar he finally felt the weight above shift as the gap widened. With clenched teeth and white knuckles, Dean leant precariously out to the side of the ladder as he struggled to widen the angle and increase the leverage.

The resistance suddenly gave and Dean only just managed to catch his fingers on the wood before he tumbled over the side. Panting and grimacing as his injury screamed in protest, he looked up in almost disbelief at the unobstructed exit.

He had done it.

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Glancing back at his brother, Dean reluctantly ascended the ladder knowing he had to check they were safe before he tried to get Sam out. As he cautiously lifted himself onto the floor above he cursed himself as it dawned on him he had no weapon.

Sitting on the floor, legs still dangling over the edge, Dean broke out in a cold sweat when he saw what had weighted the trapdoor closed.

Adrian.

"What the hell?"

Eyes darting nervously around to take in the rest of the room, he moved unsteadily over to the far wall when he saw a familiar shape on the ground. Sam's gun now in his hand and thankfully still loaded, Dean clicked the safety off as he advanced on the motionless body. Gun poised, he managed with some difficulty to roll Adrian's large frame over onto his back but there was no sign of life, supernatural or otherwise.

He would have been relieved except for the blood. The black blood that seeped from the man's nose and ears and pooled on the floor in a congealing froth where it had leaked out of his mouth.

The same black blood that had bled from his brother.

_Except Sam was alive…_

Even though he shouldn't be…but Dean wasn't about to start thinking too hard about that even though a sliver of fear pierced his heart like a razor sharp thread.

_Sam was alive_.

And that's all that mattered.

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It was the cloying stench that finally permeated his senses and he snapped back to the present still reeling from an overload of questions and fears. However, with well practised precision Dean blocked out everything except his instinct.

He had to get Sam out. Everything else came after.

Half climbing, half falling down the ladder as his coordination refused to rise to the task, Dean slowly made his way to Sam and closed his eyes letting his head drop back on his shoulders as soon as his knees hit the dirt. Opening his eyes he took a few minutes as he watched the evidence of life in the slow rise and fall of his brother's chest.

"Sam? C'mon Sammy you need to wake up now."

As he placed a gentle hand on his brother's arm, he couldn't help but smile in relief when he saw Sam's eyes open again. The relief was short lived though when the younger boy began almost hyperventilating in panic and began trying to move away, arms and legs struggling until he gave up and lay whimpering on the ground.

"God Sammy it's okay, it's me. You're safe okay, I've got you. I've got you."

The words tumbled from his mouth as they had done a hundred times before when his brother had woken from injury, still in the midst of a fight he didn't know was over. It was a legacy they shared, when their lives were almost a daily struggle to survive, the basic fight or flight instinct was strong within them.

Keeping his voice gentle, he slowly reached up to his brother's face trying to get through, needing to have Sam here with him.

"Sam?" Dean almost held his breath as dark eyes watched him without any sign of recognition.

"Sammy please?"

"De…?" After what seemed an eternity, that one barely audible sound was enough to allow Dean to draw a shuddering breath as a myriad of unacceptable scenarios were pushed from his mind.

Sam remembered him.

"Yeah, I'm here okay. Don't try and talk Sammy, you've cut your mouth up pretty bad I think and I'm sorry man but we've got no water." He continued to talk, hoping to retain his brother's attention and bring him around enough to move.

Dean paused, uncertainty crossing his features as he saw how weak his brother was and knowing they had to not only walk the few miles back to the cabin but somehow get up the ladder to escape this now hateful room. After waiting a good twenty minutes for his brother to get his bearings a little, the urgency of getting out outweighed everything else including Sam's level of hurt.

"Sam I need you to try and get up okay?"

He waited until Sam nodded slowly, eyes not leaving Dean's face even though he visibly tensed as a strong hand gripped his upper arm. Eyes widening in panic.

"Just me Sam, it's just me." Dean tried not to imagine what was going through his brother's mind as he couldn't help but recall the physical agony Sam had gone through.

As he struggled to support his younger brother's weight he could see though this was more about the pain he was causing at every point of contact. As Sam finally got his legs under him, Dean placed his brother's arm around his shoulders and gripped him around the waist with his good arm. Dean's own grunt of pain as his wound was jostled was drowned out by Sam's anguished cry as he finally stood leaning heavily on his older sibling.

"I'm sorry Sammy I know it's hurting but can you keep going?"

Another nod, eyes downcast, face paling in the dim light.

He hated this part. He could always manage his own pain, mask it, deflect it or just ignore it outright if he had to until the job was done. It was always there waiting for him at the end of the day – just like it was now.

But this, when he had to make his brother go through it, he hated this. It wasn't like there was any other option and he knew that, there was no room for the pain in between when the choice was either life or death. If he was truthful though, it was a part of the job that sickened him more than any bloodied body or rotting corpse.

He sat Sam at the base of the ladder, his back leaning against the bottom rungs for support. With a glance at the bodies left in the dirt, Dean picked his handgun up from the ground and tucked it into his waistband alongside the other. Retrieving his brother's jacket along the way he suddenly heard the girl's voice in his head scared, so young…Lucy…his eyes moved again to her motionless body.

Dean shook his head to rid himself of the memory, quickly pushing away the other voice that told him it could have just as easily been Sam still lying dead in the dirt.

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They both lay gasping on the floorboards of the cabin, the smell of rotten flesh so strong Dean could taste it but still couldn't stop sucking the fetid air into his lungs. He half rolled on his side, bracing his shoulder with the opposite hand so he could sit up. They had made it up the ladder, worse for wear but still out in one piece. It had only taken nearly fifteen minutes.

Sam was on his back, eyes closed and his face coated in sweat and dirt as he coughed hard and raw as he tried to control his breathing. As Dean watched, his brother's eyes opened and he held out a shaking hand, asking silently to be helped up.

"Easy Sam, you're bleeding." Gently hauling his brother up until he was sitting hunched over his knees, Dean saw blood trickle from the corner of Sam's mouth, red blood. "Let me see."

As he thought, Sam had already bitten his tongue and lips bloody and the coughing seemed to have reopened the still fresh wounds. He knew this was the least of Sam's injuries but there was little he could do at the moment for his brother's muscles and joints which at best were just strained and traumatised.

He had no idea what else, apart from the physical trauma, his brother was dealing with and the thought scared him. He knew what it was like to have memories that haunted you, memories that you didn't want but still cut you to shreds nonetheless.

They sat side by side in the stinking air surrounded by death and the low buzz of insects seeking out the banquet of cold flesh nearby. Sam had listed to the side and rested on Dean's wounded shoulder as though he needed the contact. The pressure made his wound ache but the contact more than compensated as Dean leaned back on his brother.

They both needed something to reaffirm they were alive in the middle of the killing field.

Once he saw that Sam was breathing as close to normal as he was going to get, Dean got to his feet, now anxious to leave this place. The pounding in his head with the change in altitude made him brace a hand on his knee until the percussion softened to a steady backbeat.

"C'mon Sammy, let's get out of here."

Sam let his brother pull him to his feet but stopped Dean when he offered his arm for support.

"Sam?"

Concentration and pain etched in the lines of his face, Sam shook his head. "You're hurt."

Dean couldn't help the smile that graced his face as he breathed a sigh of relief. "Is that it? Man you scared me for second there I thought…never mind." He looked his brother square in the eyes. "Yeah Sam I'm hurt, you're hurt and we could both probably sleep for a month but I am getting your sorry ass out of here. Now, unless you reckon you can fight me off…deal with it."

Sam gave a weary half smile and for a brief moment he looked far too young for the amount of grief that still shone brightly in his eyes. "'Kay."

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Dean had lost count of the number of times Sam had fallen down, unable to find the strength in his battered limbs to hold his body upright even with Dean's assistance.

It breaks Dean a little each time he sees his brother fall. He feels like it marks another notch on his board of failures.

The last time is the worst as Sam starts retching and blood, black blood, spews from his mouth as his body continues to purge itself. The last time is the worst because Sam gives up and won't go on. He collapses on the cold ground and starts shaking and sobbing.

"Can't."

Dean shoves his compassion and grief into the far corner of his heart in deference to the knowledge that with their injuries they need shelter before the night closes in completely. It doesn't stop the tears that leak like traitors from the corner of his eyes.

"No choice Sam, we have to keep going. You can either get up or I'll carry you." Dean has no idea what he's really going to do if his brother can't get up.

Sam finally nods and lets his brother manhandle him to his feet, both of them somehow defying the laws of gravity and human endurance by staying mostly upright.

Dean can feel Sam's body shaking but he pushes on, trying to block out the sound of his brother in agony. "M'sorry Sammy."

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When he finally sees the cabin in the waning daylight, Dean doesn't register at first what he's looking at in the midst of the pain and struggle. Then it hits him like a sledgehammer that they've made it and he nearly folds down onto the ground in relief but he fights to keep going the last fifty feet.

It seems to take forever and then some.

He's shaking and gasping nearly as much as Sam by the time his almost numb hand lifts the latch and they tumble inside. He barely has the presence of mind to secure the door and hold Sam up until he reaches a bed, lowering the near unconscious boy in a heap onto the mattress before he sinks to the floor.

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He hears a groan as the cool trickle of water hits his parched throat and he realises vaguely that he made the sound. A hand lowers his head back down and he can feel softness underneath him and warmth around him.

Squinting and trying to see through the haze he recognises with relief the face looking at him with concern.

Lulled by the feeling of safe and warm, his eyes close without warning or the chance to say his brother's name even though it registers somewhere in his brain.

_Sam_.

"Rest."

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Thirst drove his body up from the murky nothingness into the dull daylight where pain and cold embrace him. It took minutes, maybe longer until Sam regained some semblance of thought to understand where he was. Still blinking slowly, a disjointed picture formed in his mind and he struggled to remember. There were flashes of stumbling through the forest, his brother the only thing keeping him up, making him move.

Making him try even when he knew he couldn't.

He opened his mouth to call out but his tongue felt thick and swollen and his throat felt like it was embedded with broken glass. The strangled sound that came out did nothing but bring on a coughing fit and his hand came away from his lips bloody.

He registered it was day but had no sense of how much time had passed and a sense of panic began to edge in as he struggled to sit up. Panic tipped over into something else when he took in the crumpled body of his older brother right there on the floor next to him like some fallen sentinel.

Sam slid off the bed ungracefully but careful to avoid his brother's upper body which was lying awkwardly on his side as though he had tried to turn over but failed miserably. It was probably more good luck than good management that Dean's wounded shoulder was lying up in the air not trapped underneath him.

Carefully placing his arms underneath Dean's back and knees, Sam found he couldn't lift his brother's weight from the floor, his right knee collapsing underneath him without warning. Managing to sit back up on the bed, Sam reached down and pulled Dean's torso up and across his own legs. He was then able to stand and shift his brother's legs onto the bed before covering him with a blanket.

Water. That was the next thought that struggled through his mind as he limped into the next room bracing his hands along the rough timbered walls as he went. Retrieving a bottle from their supplies, his thirst outweighed the burn as the cold liquid stung his torn mouth and raw throat.

"Dean?" He lifted his brother's head and tipped the bottle to his lips, thankful that Dean drank a little and began to shift. As he rested his head back down, Dean stirred and looked up into his face holding his stare and nodding slightly. Sam could see the utter exhaustion reflected in the green depths but he could also see his brother was okay, was there with him.

"Rest." The sound is rough but Dean seems to understand as he finally succumbs to his body's demands.

Cold is the next sensation that he needs to think about because Dean is trembling under the thin layer of blanket and he can barely feel his own hands. There are more covers in the wooden box at the end of the bed and a layer of dust is disturbed as Sam removes all four and piles them over his brother.

By the time he gets a fire started, thankful they had already brought wood inside before they had left, Sam eases himself down near the flames and lets the warmth seep though his shaking body.

He finds himself staring at the torn skin of his hand and that's when everything comes tumbling down on top of him.

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Dean was at a loss to understand why he felt so damn heavy when all he wanted to do was roll over and catch a couple more hours sleep before they hit the road. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before lifting his head.

"Hey."

The scratched voice is low, right beside him and he turns his head, startled until his brother comes into focus.

"Sam?" Lifting his head again as the here and now takes a hold of his senses, Dean sees the mountain of blankets that cover him up to his chin. "You trying to bury me alive?"

Receiving no answer he takes in the dishevelled appearance of his younger brother and the haunted look in his eyes.

"Don't remember going to bed, not that I'm complaining." Actually he could barely recall getting back to the cabin but it didn't matter, they were both here and both in relatively one piece.

Sam sat in a chair by the bedside with arms folded across his body and shoulders hunched but still made no attempt to speak even though he retrieved a bottle of water from the floor and held it out in offering. Dean took the bottle gratefully, only realising how parched he was when he saw the visual prompt.

"You okay Sam?" As his brother replaced the lid on the now near empty bottle, Dean managed to move enough of the coverings to allow him to sit up. He noticed his shoulder had been bandaged with an actual bandage and although the pain was sharp it was bearable. He also noticed that Sam was still wearing the same clothes and his bare forearms were covered in dark bruises.

A dismissive nod. "You should take these and then maybe try to eat."

Sam held out three tablets and Dean took them, hoping they'd lessen the growing throb in his shoulder.

'Yeah actually that sounds good. How long we been here?" He watched as the younger boy seemed to consider this before answering.

"Nearly a day."

He winced in sympathy when Sam's voice seemed to catch on something painfully sharp.

"I've been out that long?" Dean moved his legs out from under the coverings and placed his feet on the floor amazed at how tired and weak he still felt.

"You got us out. I don't know how but you did."

"Yeah." Something was off and he was too damn tired to figure it out himself but he felt the niggling doubts begin to rise to the surface. Vivid images in his mind's eye of black blood and screaming. "How do you feel Sam, you okay?"

An expression flickered across Sam's face that Dean was at a loss to place and that in itself was disconcerting.

"I'm fine." Sam was already walking away, out of the small bedroom.

Dean stood and followed his brother noticing the slow and laboured walk, much like his own he realised. Nothing surprising given what they had endured.

Sam was opening cupboards and reached up to retrieve what Dean saw were several tins on the higher shelf of the meagre pantry. As Sam stretched, exposing a strip of skin across his lower back, Dean saw more bruising on his brother's flesh. He walked forward and without warning lifted the thin cotton covering Sam's torso.

"Jesus Sam, is this all over you?" He ignored his brother's startled jump and attempt to cover himself back up. He had already seen the damage extended over Sam's abdomen, side and upper back.

"Just bruises, they'll heal."

"Sammy what's wrong man? You seem okay, you're not even stuttering but…are you mad at me? Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Sam looked almost defiant then seemed to physically sag right before Dean's eyes. When he finally looked up Dean couldn't look away.

"I'm fine Dean, that's the problem. I think I'm…fixed and…and I shouldn't even be alive. That's what's wrong, I'm here and breathing and okay and I should be…you should've…you let me live and if I haven't already hurt someone then what's gonna happen next full moon? I can't be this and I don't even remember Dean, I don't remember."

Sam's raw voice was painful to listen to but the words were worse. Sam thought he had turned into what they hunted, a monster. Dean realised Sam had no idea what had happened to him.

"No Sammy it's alright man, you didn't change. I don't understand it but your body fought it somehow and you didn't change…" Dean tried to ignore the pang of doubt when he realised he couldn't account for last night but surely the fact he was unhurt was proof enough that Sam hadn't turned.

"You know…" Sam shook his head hands clenching into fists. "You know that's not possible Dean. You know there's no cure except a bullet and if you can't…"

"I don't know how you did it but whatever it was that saved you, I think it killed Adrian. He bit you and maybe whatever was in your blood, the metal, I think it destroyed the lupine blood. All I know Sam is you didn't change and you're gonna be okay."

Dean watched as his brother tried to comprehend the details, shaking his head and looking away when Dean reached out to him. "They got the metal out of my blood at the hospital Dean and how could something like that stop me turning and then reverse the damage it did in the first place? How did it fix me Dean?"

"I know you want answers Sam but can't you just accept this and be thankful? You nearly died, hell you did die but you're here now and I am not gonna be sorry about that just because I don't know how it worked."

"Sam?"

"I'm…I'm just scared Dean. What if there's more to this…?"

"Then we work it out as we go, like we always do."

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They had found enough tinned food for a basic meal and sat watching the flames in exhausted silence as daylight slipped from the sky.

"How did I get the bruises?"

Dean frowned wanting to forget the details but knowing he would have asked the same thing. Understanding that Sam had to try and fill in some of the blanks but wishing the pieces didn't hurt so much to recall.

"You nearly turned yourself inside out when your body tried to change, it was…I'm surprised you didn't tear every muscle you own."

"Kinda feels like I did." Sam gave a wry smile and then continued, hesitant. "Are you…you seem…I mean before you were…I thought maybe you were angry at me before this hunt and…"

"I wasn't angry at you Sam. When we hunted the Skrabens and then when you got hurt…" Dean took a breath because he needed his brother to understand this even if he didn't fully comprehend his own behaviour. "I got pretty screwed up on that job Sammy and afterwards, I felt like I either had to lock it down or I was gonna lose it. I couldn't let myself…I couldn't get too close. I didn't want to feel anything Sammy."

Dean had to stop then because the backwash of emotions caught him totally unprepared. How could he explain that although he knew what was happening at the time he couldn't control his actions, he'd been detached, an outsider looking in at his own life. It had been like basic self preservation had kicked in to the detriment of everything else including his brother. It had taken almost losing Sam on this hunt to bring him back, drag him into the harsh light of reality from the unfeeling safety of the darkness.

"It's okay Dean." Sam spoke softly, his voice laced with understanding as he watched his brother struggle to maintain control.

Dean knew those fears and memories were still with him, that they would always be a part of him now. He also knew that they both needed time to heal and right now he couldn't dig any deeper. Nodding at Sam, grateful he didn't push for more, Dean took a breath to steady himself.

Another thought came at him and he fought to rein in the dread when he realised what Sam would find out, what he might already know if his memories had returned. "You said before you felt like you were fixed, the damage was gone. Do you remember that hunt now Sam?"

Sam shook his head. "I remember getting out of the hospital and then things get clearer after that but…no I still don't remember what happened. I know Sarah told me a bit about what you did to help her but she wouldn't go in to it. She said you needed to find yourself and I shouldn't push too hard but I didn't know what to do to help you Dean. I felt like I'd lost you."

"I know Sam and I'm sorry I was so hard on you. I don't think there was anything else you could of done except what you did." Dean knew he had been lost but right now he was torn between the elation his brother was okay and the feeling of guilt as the relief swept through him because Sam didn't remember.

"I didn't do anything, I felt like all I did was make it worse." Sam recalled the bitter feeling of helplessness which still didn't seem that far away from how he felt now.

"You stayed." Dean waited until his brother met his yes, if only briefly before turning them down and away. "Sam no matter how much I pushed you away you stayed man. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't."

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They sat on the floor in front of the fire, the steel hip flask on the floor between them. Dean cleaned the weapons they had with them out of habit and the need for something routine and comforting. Sam assisted when the need arose but was mostly content to just sit and listen and watch. Make sure his brother didn't move his injured shoulder too much. Make sure he was there if Dean needed him.

As fear began its relentless journey from heart to soul, Sam wondered if they would ever be like this again. This moment in time when they were just brothers.

They spoke of past hunts and which direction the road was going to take them when they finally had the energy to walk back to the car. Neither boy spoke about the silver loaded gun that Sam had silently placed on the floor near his brother's leg as the night fell down around them. Neither acknowledged the silver grey moonlight that they both knew covered the forest outside like a thin veil that undulated with the passing clouds.

As soon as the first rays of daylight filtered through the tiny gaps and knots in the timbered walls, Dean stood and placed the gun on the table with the other weapons without a word. He turned to find Sam opening the door, his too lean body silhouetted in the morning glow and highlighting the otherwise imperceptible tremble of his shoulders.

"It's over Sammy."

Sam felt Dean's hand on his shoulder and he nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Unable to find the words that would convey his love and faith and absolute relief that he had Dean here with him. He had his brother back.

Unable to communicate the terror that still had him in its clutches even though he hadn't turned with the last night of the full moon. There was no lore or logic to the feeling but somehow that made it all the worse.

Sometimes what doesn't kill you, makes you wonder why.

_END._

_a/n Jun09: Thanx so much for reading and travelling on the winding road this story became – somewhere along the way I hit and passed the 200,000 word mark for this site. I knew I could be a bit wordy sometimes (at least when I write) but this kinda blew my mind a little!!_

_I know I've left some loose ends – I want to write a sequel. The story is in my head but the page before me is blank so..._

_lb._


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